


In The Lonely Hour

by areyoutherelarry



Series: Tomlinson-Styles Family Series [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Divorce, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3749209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoutherelarry/pseuds/areyoutherelarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis and Harry have been divorced for almost a year and apart for nearly three. On the paperwork, it says the grounds for their divorce were living apart for more than two years, but there’s more, that’s only what they’ll admit out loud. </p><p>Louis didn’t want to agree and sign the paperwork. He wanted to fight but he couldn’t confront the real reason for their divorce and a Harry who seemed so apathetic. Yet now that one of their children is sick, they’ll have to put their insecurities aside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's a Lonesome Point of View

**Author's Note:**

> This is based in the future and I have it planned out till the end. I'm super excited about it.
> 
> I don't own anyone or anything; this is just for fun. 
> 
> Title From Sam Smith's In The Lonely Hour

            Sometimes, Louis wakes up and forgets that Harry won’t be next to him. He spent over a decade and a half sleeping next to him. It was usually on and off depending on their schedules but it was always more on than off, especially when their oldest children were little. Now, it’s been almost three years of off and he still reaches for him some mornings.

            This morning is one of those mornings. Louis knows it will be a bad day; he knows that when he reaches for Harry it means he’ll spend the whole day thinking about his ex-husband. The house will feel huge and empty and stiflingly lonely and he’ll miss their kids more than he usually does, which is a whole fucking lot. His fingers twitch to face-time them, but it’s only a quarter to nine in London, so it’s only a little after midnight in Los Angeles, and while Harry is probably still awake, their kids should all be in bed. He’s going to have to wait over six hours to face-time them, and he’ll only be able to chat with them for a few minutes before Harry will hustle them to school. For a longer conversation, he’ll have to wait till almost midnight, especially to catch Finn, their oldest son.

            He sits on the edge of the bed, pressing his fingers into his eyelids until there’s a dance of colors on them. He goes into the bathroom and splashes water on his face. He brushes his teeth and considers shaving or pulling water through his hair but he does neither. He’s not in the mood.

            The house is way too big for him on his own, but it’s where they brought home Finn, Maisie, Lola, and Toby because their surrogate, Michelle, was based in London. He just can’t envision selling the place even if it is too large now for only one person to be living there a majority of the year. After they’d gotten married and finished the ten-year anniversary tour, they’d bought the large home in Chelsea and spent months prepping for Finn’s birth. Harry had nested so completely into their home that it’d taken Louis nearly a year to get him to go anywhere else.

            Louis tries to forcefully pull himself out of the reminiscing because it will only depress him more, only make him crave contact more. He takes cereal out of the pantry and grabs the almost empty gallon of milk. The fridge is sparse and he knows Liam would shake his head if he could see it, but he just can’t bring himself to fill his fridge when he’s the only one to ever eat out of it. 

            He has to be at the studio in a few hours for the first round of live shows. His group is relatively strong this year. A few promising, established groups and one group that they threw together during boot camp. Of course, they’ve needled a special place in Louis’s heart because they remind him so much of One Direction twenty years ago. They’re a little older, but each of them reminds Louis of each member of One Direction so sometimes it’s hard to be impartial when he’s working with them.  

            He’s lucky there’s a craft service table at the studio; otherwise, he’d only ever eat takeaway and cereal, alone in his stupid, empty house. Liam’s already there, the punctual wanker. Louis forgives him for his timeliness when he hands him a piping mug of tea. He grunts in response and then sighs into the warmth of the cup.

            “The usual response to someone handing you something that you seem to so desperately need is thank you,” Liam tells him, his lips twisting up into a wry grin.

            “Fuck you,” Louis says with the largest fake smile that he can muster.

            “What’s got your knickers in a knot?” Liam asks, bumping shoulders with him.

            Louis gives him an affronted look before replying, “Your face.”

            “Mature, Louis, very mature,” Liam sighs as they head back to the rehearsal space to talk to Louis’s acts.

            “Didn’t sleep well,” Louis finally admits because he knows that sometimes his abrasiveness hurts Liam’s feelings and he’s going through a lot too right now, what with his divorce from Sophia making it’s way through the courts and the papers. Liam only responds with a noise deep in his throat that lets Louis know that he understands and Louis imagines he probably understands better than most.

            The first group they work with is a man band; they can’t really call it a boy band because most of the members are approaching the same age as Louis and Liam. They decide on a classic U2 song and then begin rehearsals. They don’t need much handholding from Louis, but they still look to him for advice. It’s still a little weird to Louis to be respected. He knows that him and Liam have made a name for themselves in the recording industry and even the business industry as well, but it’s still overwhelming sometimes to think that the two of them could make or break someone’s career. That their expertise is wanted from people of any age or rank.

            It’s weird how each of them has turned their One Direction-roots into profitable career paths, a highly unusual outcome for a boy band. Zayn has his solo career that’s still going strong after five albums and three Grammys. Niall has his late night talk show where he interviews celebrities and cajoles them into participating in ridiculous activities. Harry has an acting career that can rival Marky-Mark’s with two Academy Award nominations and a regular gig on an Emmy-award winning HBO drama in addition to his songwriting. Louis and Liam, of course, have their lucrative songwriting careers as well as their ventures into the entrepreneurially world.  Liam also has his production company and Louis has stakes in football. They’re doing well for themselves, extremely well.

            Advising is probably one of the most rewarding parts about Louis’s career. It’s sometimes aggravating and frustrating, but mostly it’s gratifying. He wants to give back; he wants to give other people the opportunities he’s been given. The opportunity to live out their dreams and maybe, even, in the process find their soul mates.

            It’s bad the kind of bias he has towards this group, but they’re so much like One Direction was in the beginning, young, naïve, and happy, so incredibly happy. Liam looks at them with the same partiality shining in his eyes. When they arrive, the glee and utter terror is so obvious in them. They have to walk through a lot more things with them and just having them warm-up is difficult. They sing over each other; some more confident than the others, and Louis rubs his temples because while he enjoys their enthusiasm, it’s going to be hard to rein it into perfection. He’s not really Simon Cowell; he doesn’t think he can provide the same unwavering consistency that Simon provided for them.

            “All right, lads,” he says after they strain their voices through warm-ups. “We have to talk music selection. These songs are going to be your first real introduction into the music world. There are going to be your tapes from the Judge’s House, but it won’t be the same as these live shows.”

            “I think, they should…” Liam starts but he is interrupted by the member that always reminds Louis of himself.

            “We were thinking we’d like to do a One Direction song,” he says, and the other boys nod emphatically.

            “Well then,” Liam trails off.

            “A little ambitious, aren’t we lads?” Louis asks sardonically, lifting an eyebrow at them.

            “People are already making the comparison and we figured we might as well bite the bullet.”

            “Don’t you think you should wait it out, it could go the wrong way.”

            “Go big or go home,” pipes in the youngest member.

            “What were you thinking? Not ‘That’s What Makes You Beautiful,’ I hope,” Louis replies.

            “We were thinking ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go,’” he tells Louis.

            “Fitting,” Louis mumbles as he glances at Liam who nods in agreement.

            “Fine, if you think you can manage,” Louis says, “You know we sang that at the finale once. There will be innumerable comparisons. You might have just gotten yourselves voted off.”

            “We’re sure,” he nods, and Louis looks at the rest of their faces and they’re clearly not sure but they already have a deep loyalty to each other. They’ll go far he thinks auspiciously.

            “I’m not sure how you do this,” Liam says as they sit in his dressing room with plates stacked high with food.

            “I have to,” Louis responds through a mouthful of food.

            “What do you mean?”

            “I have to in order to stop myself from remembering how fucking lonely I am.”

            “Makes sense,” Liam mumbles, and Louis knows that a few months ago Liam would’ve pitied him, but now Liam understands loneliness is just part of being separated or divorced.

            “Shit, what time is it?”

            “Almost one.”

            “I’ve got to face-time the kids.”

            He pulls out his phone and opens the face-time app. He clicks the button for the iPad that he knows keeps residence in the kitchen. It rings a few times before Lola’s staring at him with a milk moustache.

            “Daddy,” she yells, her mouth full of what looks like one of Harry’s healthy breakfast muffins.

            “Hey, love,” he says, his heart lifting looking at her excited little face.

            “Hi,” she says and then she’s out of frame.

            “Lola,” he sings before the iPad is picked up by someone else.

            “Hi Louis,” Harry says as he comes into frame.

            “Harry,” he replies softly.

            “How are you?” Harry asks and it’s said with genuine interest that Louis feels the same twinge that he felt when he woke up that morning.

            “I’m fine, thank you, and yourself?”

            “Same old, same old,” Harry responds and Louis wonders if he ever wakes up feeling the way Louis did this morning. Probably not, Louis knows he’s been dating Nick Grimshaw for the last two years.

            “The rest of your children,” Harry announces and then he’s set the iPad at the counter. Three faces smile back at him.

            “One’s missing,” he reminds Harry.

            “Maisie’s not feeling so well; she’s still sleeping,” Harry informs him, and his heart clenches again. He doesn’t like being away from them, wants to fly to LA right that second and cuddle their daughter, but he can’t he has obligations.

            “Hi dad,” Finn says, waving an orange slice at him.

            “How’s footie going?”

            “Good, coach says that he thinks I could be a great striker,” Finn says as he bites into an orange and sprays the camera with juice.

            “You most definitely could. Anything else exciting going on?”

            “I might try out for the winter musical.”

            “Following in his dad’s footsteps,” he hears Harry call.

            “Better singer than me already though,” Louis jokes and Finn preens under the compliment.

            “I’m going to sing too daddy,” Lola yells drawing his attention to where she’s slurping milk from a Man-U cup.

            “When, baby?”

            “Fall show, I’m going to be the witch,” Lola jeers and then sneers at him. He hopes in her best attempt to do a witch face.

            “Terrifying, love, absolutely terrifying,” Louis says, shielding his eyes while Lola cackles happily.

            “What about you, Toby?” He asks the little boy sitting in the booster seat. Toby gives him a thumbs-up.

            “What are you going to do today?”

            “School, park, Uncle Niall’s.”

            “That sounds awesome. Who are you going to go to the park with?”

            “Papa and Lola,” Toby tells him.

            “Sounds like fun, be good, yeah?”

            “Yeah,” Toby responds, smiling.

            “You two, too, yeah?”

            “I’ve got you, dad,” Finn replies.

            “Maybe,” Lola replies, being the sassy little miss that she is.

            “Sorry to cut this short,” Harry says, laughing, “But I have to get them to school.”

            “Of course,” Louis says as Harry turns the camera to face him, “Give me a call when Maisie’s up, I’d like to check on her.”

            “Of course,” Harry says, he turns the camera to where the kids are putting on their shoes, “Say bye to daddy.”

            “Bye,” they call in response, waving their hands at the camera. Louis waves back until Harry disconnects the call. He covers his mouth with his hand and tries to concentrate on not being upset. There’s nothing to be upset over. His kids are thousands of kilometers away and living life without him.

            “You okay?” Liam asks softly, and he’d almost forgotten he was still in the same room.

            “Yeah,” Louis says, but the crack in his voice gives him away.

            “It’s okay if you miss them.”

            “I know that,” Louis huffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “It’s not even that I miss them. It’s like they don’t even need me. Harry was always so much better at this than me, and god.”

            “Louis, that’s dumb, you know that’s dumb. They love you. They miss you. Hell, Harry probably misses you.”

            Louis snorts, “I was almost believing you there for a minute.”

            Liam sighs and they sit in a stilted silence for a few minutes. Louis sorts through paperwork on his desk and Liam scrolls through his phone. Louis hates paperwork, usually he’d have his assistant do it, but sometimes it distracts him from the void feeling that’s more persistent than ever. Busy work is probably what’s keeping him alive.

            “Got an invitation from Funky Buddha. Want to go?”

            “Don’t you think we’re a bit old, Leeymo?”

            “Maybe, but then again we’re also rich celebrities so that’s got to be worth something.”

            “We could be some of those people’s parents.”

            “You always have to make it perverted, don’t you?”

            Again, they fall back into silence. Louis responds to some emails from production and then goes to check on his acts one last time.

            “All right, let’s go,” he says when he walks back into the room.

            “Go where?”

            “To Funky Buddha.”

            “Sure?”

            “Yeah, I’m going to need some alcohol to fall asleep tonight, but we have to follow the dating age rule.”

            “Which is?”

            “Half our age plus seven.”

            “So twenty-five or twenty-six, I can deal with that. Plus, I’m not all that interested in taking someone home. It will only fuel Sophia’s lawyer and Em’s already getting flack at school.”

            “She’s only nine,” Louis complains, outraged.

            “Kids are mean,” Liam says sagely and a little gloomily.

            “What time do you want to meet?” Liam asks.

            “Shall we have dinner first, I don’t think either of us holds our liquor as well as we used to.”

            Liam laughs and they agree to have dinner at eight-thirty at Hakkasan. Louis calls the security service he usually uses and they tell him they’ll send a guy and a car at eight.

            He gets a text from Harry around six saying that Maisie’s asking to talk to him, so he calls her on face-time. She’s in her bed, Louis can tell when she answers because she’s holding Froggie, her lovie, who Harry requires stays in her bedroom.

            “Hello, love,” he greets sweetly.

            “Hi, daddy,” she croaks.

            “How you feeling, baby?”

            “Okay, daddy.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “My body hurts everywhere and it’s hard to swallow,” she admits softly.

            “I’m sorry, love.”

            “It’s not your fault.”

            “I love you, baby.”

            “I love you too daddy.”

            “What can I do to make you feel better?”

            “Tell me a story.”

            “What story?”

            “Prince Harry and Prince Louis.”

            Louis tries not to let his emotions show on his face; his stomach drops at the request, but Maisie looks so pathetic that he gives in.

            “There were once two princes: prince Harry from Holmes Chapel and prince Louis from Doncaster. They were both mums’ boys and since their mums thought they were such wonderful singers they signed up for a singing competition. Prince Harry was very good and very cute, but Prince Louis messed up a little and just wanted to maybe get through. The first time they met was in the bathroom. It really wasn’t that romantic, but that didn't mean they didn't try to make it romantic later on. Their first words to each other were ‘oops’ and ‘hi’.”

            “Because Prince Harry accidentally peed on Prince Louis. They even got tattoos later,” Maisie adds as she yawns and sets up the iPad so she can lie on her side.

            “They both didn’t make it through as individuals, but they got put into a group with three other princes. They fell in love, even though they lost,” Louis continues the story as Maisie’s eyelids become heavy.

            “She loves that story,” Harry tells him when she’s asleep.

            “Harry, you need to take her to the doctor.”

            “She’s a kid, Louis, she gets sick.”

            “She never falls asleep until the UAN tour. Never.”

            “You’re being ridiculous,” Harry tells him.

            “Tell me you’ll take her.”

            “If she still feels bad tomorrow, I’ll take her.”

            “Promise.”

            “Louis, I’ll do it if I say I’ll do it.”

            “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about her. It’s Maisie, you know?”

            “Honestly, I do. I know; she’s our daughter and she’s our sweet girl.”

            “Lola would be offended.”

            “Lola’s our sassy girl, you know that.”

            “I do.”

            “I’ll text you if anything comes up.”

            “Thanks, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

            Louis takes a nap of his own because he can’t stop his brain from whirling in overtime. He’s worried about Maisie; she’s usually vibrant and fascinated in everyone around her. She’s probably their most empathetic child. She was the first to understand how unhappy Louis was when they were getting divorced. She would curl up with him on the couch to watch footie games, and she said she would come live with him in the flat near their house even though he didn’t have nearly as many things to entertain her with and he sucked at cooking. He’s worried about her.

            He wakes up around seven and gets ready to go out. He dresses in the outfit he hopes will make him look younger than he actually is because he’s pushing forty and that’s incredibly old. His hair takes him almost twenty minutes by itself and he’s still flicking it around when the security presses the intercom to be let in.

            Louis’s only fifteen minutes late, but Liam is waiting in front of his building when Louis arrives. He laughs at Liam’s affronted look and presses a kiss into his cheek when he slides into the backseat. His phone dings.

            “It’s Harry, do you mind if I face-time with Maisie, she’s sick.”

            “Of course not,” Liam assures as he pulls out his own phone to give him a modicum of privacy.

            Maisie shows up on the screen, Toby sitting next to her.

            “Hi, loves.”

            “Daddy,” they both semi-screech, even though it’s clear that they’re both tired.

            “How are you?”

            “Papa says we have to take a nap, and we want you to sing us to sleep.”

            Louis laughs, “Any requests?”

            “Strong,” Maisie requests, and Toby nods ardently. Liam glances over at the request and raises his eyebrows.

            “Do you mind if Uncle Liam joins?” Louis asks and both kids cheer in response.

            “My hands, your hands/ Tied up like two ships,” Louis sings.

            Liam continues, “Drifting, weightless/ Waves try to break it/ I'd do anything to save it/ Why is it so hard to say it?”

            They sing the whole song in a capella harmony. Louis watches their eyes get heavy, but the smiles never leave their faces or at least it seems like it. It’s Harry who shows up on the screen when it’s ended.

            “Haven’t lost it,” Harry comments.

            “Thanks,” Liam chuckles.

            “Have a nice night,” Harry responds before logging off.

            “Don’t get all melancholy because you just saw Harry.”

            “I won’t.”       

            “Promise.”

            “I promise.”

            Louis’s more than full when they walk to Funky Buddha. There’s paparazzo outside but they’re not all that interested in two music moguls when the young, hot musicians are walking in too.

            The music’s too loud and the alcohol too generic and expensive, but Louis enjoys his ability to be blissful. He orders himself way too many shots and beers. His tongue feels fuzzy and he’s biting on it to try to gauge how drunk he is. Liam gets dragged away from their table by a busty brunette who Louis grudgingly thinks doesn’t meet their age requirements.

            His phone dings with a message from Finn:

                       

                        _GAMe WINNING goal_

Louis smiles down at his phone and types back:

 

_that 's my boy ! conrgats you deser ve it!!_

                        _thanks! fajitas for din!!!_

_yummy ! eat ome for me_

_k luv u!_

_luv u !!_

“Texting your boyfriend,” a sultry voice asks. He looks up and there’s a guy who’s probably closer to Finn’s age than his own standing there. He’s wearing a button down and his hair is perfectly coiffed. He has dark brown hair and eyes the color of evergreen trees. He’s broad in the shoulders and tapers to a slim waist. He’s frankly, incredibly gorgeous, and could have any gay man within a quarter mile radius, but Louis feels sleazy for eyeing him.

            “My son,” Louis half shouts, half laughs.

            “Oh, a daddy,” he comments, and Louis internally cringes. He’s never thought daddy kinks were all that appealing, especially not after he had his own kids and they started calling him daddy.

            Louis’s phone buzzes again and he glances down:

           

                        _STOP texting our son when you’re drunk_

“Want to dance?” Louis asks and the guy nods.

            Louis’s never been much of a dancer. He’d only ever danced before if Harry forced him to or he was extremely drunk. He didn’t mind shaking his bum in front of fans but actually dancing, like dancing to attract someone he’s never been good at. They press front to front because Louis refuses to have the younger, taller man pull his ass into his crotch. The song is only a few lines in when they start kissing. It’s sloppy and Louis’s almost grossed out by the amount of slobber accompanying the man’s lips.

            Louis’s not sure how long they dance before he’s being dragged to the bar and bought a round of shots. He swallows the liquid fire and immediately regrets his decision to humor Liam. He knows he’ll regret this in the morning. He wakes up in his bed six hours later, a leg slung over his hips and someone trying to share his pillow. He really has to wee and toss up whatever’s in his stomach. He’s not sure which should happen first. He concentrates and successfully completes both without making a mess of the loo.

            All he really wants is to crawl back into his own bed and sleep for about ninety-two days, but he also doesn’t want to crawl back into bed with some twink he picked up…or did the twink pick him up. And now, the fucking twink knows where he lives. This is fucking awful. He pulls on a pair of trackies and nudges the man’s shoulder. Hell, boy, he looks a lot younger asleep in the morning light than he did last night. This realization does not help Louis’s hangover.

            He comes out of unconsciousness slowly, blinking up at Louis before flopping onto his back in the middle of Louis’s bed. Louis wonders how fucking self-assured you have to be to lie in the middle of someone that you barely know’s bed ass naked.

            “Morning,” he mumbles.

            “Yeah, morning,” Louis responds.

            “Last night was fun.”

            “Sure, yeah.”

            “Want to continue this morning?”

            God, he’s not going to make this easy on Louis, “Look, I’m really hungover and I just want to sleep.”

            “So sleep.”

            “Alone, yeah? I’ll pay for your cab,” Louis says.

            “Wow, you’re a prick.”

            “So I’ve been told,” Louis ushers him out of the bedroom as he tries to skip-jump to put his clothes back on.

            “Fucking asshole,” the dude mumbles as he crawls into the back of the cab.

            “Wherever he needs to go,” Louis tells the driver, handing over a hundred pound note, ignoring the not so pleasant good-bye from his “guest”.

            He’s back in his bed a few minutes later, everything in his body thrumming with dehydration and sleep-deprivation. Before he falls back into thirst-interrupted unconsciousness, he texts Liam:

                       

                        _i fucking hate you and everything you stand for_

            He’s woken to the constant warble of his phone. He fumbles with the buttons just to make it stop its annoying, repetitive bullshit, “Hello?” he heaves out the words through his dried, crusted lips.

            “If I could, I’d fucking choke you right now.”

            “Harry?”

            “What were you thinking?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “Your son is having a full-on strop about you and this little twink.”

            “How’d he know?”

            “He has you on Google-alert. The fucking little genius. He refuses to leave his room to go to school.”

            “Fuck,” Louis mumbles as he chugs a bottle of water from his fridge. Who knew he had bottled water in the vegetable drawer?

            “It’s all over the internet. Every sleazy magazine on both sides of the pond picked it up. Jesus, Louis, was he even fucking legal?”

            “Fuck off, Harry. Let me talk to him.”

            “Sure, that’s a good idea. You still sound wrecked.”

            “Did you call me to berate me? Or did you call me to talk to our son?”

            “Fine,” Harry sighs and Louis can hear him walk up the stairs.

            “’Ello,” Finn answers and it sounds like he’s been crying.

            “Hey, bud.”

            “Hi.”

            “What’s wrong, little man?”

            “I’m not little. I’m almost as tall as you.”

            “Rude, but all right, what’s wrong, big man?”

            “Are you getting married?”

            “What?”

            “Are you going to marry someone else and have kids with them and live in London and never come and visit us again because you love your new family more and you wanted to live in London and LA’s too far way?”

            “What? No, of course not. Come on, Finn, you know that’s not going to happen. I love you guys so much. I would never stop loving you or coming to visit you. I miss you guys so much, more than you can ever know, okay?”

            “Promise?”

            “I promise, love. Don’t ever think that.”

            “I miss you, dad.”

            “I miss you, too, little man.”

            “I wish you were here.”

            “Me too, Finn, me too.”

            “So come?” Finn says and it’s soft and spoken like he was scared to utter the words.

            “You know I have X-factor and business here right now.”

            “I know.”

            “I’ll see you guys around Halloween, though, all right?”

            “Okay.”

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too dad.”

            “Thanks,” Harry says begrudgingly when Finn hands him back the iPad.

            “Yeah, of course,” Louis sighs, signing off and dropping his phone on his mattress. He needs a fucking huge ass cup of tea. 

           Louis's not very excited about the way that his conversation ends with Finn and Harry, but he's too exhausted to call him back and hash it out. He, sort of, wants to, in a self-hating way, because at least then they'd be communicating again. 

It's not that they don't talk, they do but it's only ever about their children's well being. The most they've inquired about each other is "how are you?" and "I'm fine/so-so/etc."

            They lived in each other's pocket for over a decade. Louis still subconsciously reaches for Harry's hand when they're out with the kids together. He still craves the closeness and intimacy of their bodies molding together. He'll probably never get over their divorce, not even if Harry manages to move on, which Louis has to enviously admit that he's already done, not that Louis ever acknowledges Harry’s relationship with Nick. 

            Louis makes himself some instant rice and a large mug of tea. He snags an applesauce out of the cupboard where he keeps food for the kids when they come. He watches a couple episodes of some Netflix show and then rewatches his favorite _Friends_ episodes.

            His eyelids are heavy and he’s only been up for a few hours, so he forces himself to make it through _Doctor Strange 2._ He then throws in a frozen pizza and eats the whole thing before going back to the master bedroom. He brushes his teeth and takes a shower in the hopes that it will revitalize him. It really doesn’t and he’s worried this is going to turn into a two-day hangover. He hates getting old. He hates having to restart the single life thing at fucking thirty-eight years old, almost thirty-nine, nearly forty, his loving brain tacks on to his self-deprecating train of thought. He pulls on an old pair of footie shorts and one of Harry’s jersey-knit long-sleeve vests. No one needs to know that he hasn’t packed up all the clothes Harry left at their London abode because he likes the way that Harry’s shirts cover his hands when he sleeps.

            He falls into a weird semi-unconsciousness, which is pretty typical after he drinks. He leaves the tellie on to have something to keep him company. His body keeps waking him up to drink water and it’s slightly infuriating but it’s at least good that he’s gone to bed early enough that the eleven hours spent in bed will equate to a solid seven, which is more than he usually gets.      

            Louis is woken at two by his phone ringing and vibrating his bed. It’s Harry, and Louis thinks that he’s probably calling to berate Louis for his indecency. He almost doesn’t pick-up, but he figures that’s pretty childish. His head is already throbbing and he does not want to have an adult conversation with Harry, which usually entails Harry lecturing him, and Louis listening quietly and agreeing when deemed necessary.

            “Did you call up to berate me, Harry, because it could have really waited until it was an appropriate hour in London.”

            He waits for the bantering retort, but instead all he hears are harsh breaths through the line.

            “H, what’s wrong?”

            “You were right Louis, you were fucking right and I just brushed it off.”

            “What are you talking about?” He asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and trying to remember anytime that he could have possibly been right and Harry wrong.

            “You were right about Maisie.”

            “Shit, that’s the last thing I want to be right about. What’s wrong?”


	2. In the Lonely Hour, That We All Go Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis rushes to see his family in LA when Harry tells him what is wrong with Maisie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your responses to the last chapter were absolutely amazing; I was literally floored at the amazing accolades you gave me. Thank you so much!

            Harry starts sobbing, Louis flashes back to the time right before their separation and he has to sit on the corner of his bed to gather his shredded emotions. He rubs his tongue along the roof of his mouth; it’s been a calming tactic for him since he had to learn to shut his mouth in interviews.

            “Haz, whatever it is, we’ll work through it together, yeah? But I can’t do something if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

            He can hear Harry take calming inhalations and finally get his tears controlled enough to speak.

            “It’s all my fault.”

            “That’s not true, love, that’s not true. Harry, you’ve got to tell me what’s wrong. ”

            “They think Maisie has lymphoma.”

            “Fuck,” Louis mutters and his breath wobbles on his inhales and exhales.

            Harry starts crying again, but they’re softer this time; Louis can almost feel the fissure it’s causing in his chest. Louis’ s worried that those kind of tears will go on for days, months, or even years; he knows they did for him. Louis pulls his Mac off the bedside table and opens it. He can feel the tears slipping down his cheeks at a similar pace to Harry’s, as if Harry’s excess grief is flowing through Louis instead.

            “Where’s Maisie?” he asks, carefully.

            “Napping,” Harry responds.

            “The rest of the kids?”

            “Niall’s.”

            “I’m going to come out there, okay?”

            “What about the X-factor?”

            “It doesn’t matter. You all matter so much more than the fucking X-factor.”

            “Really?”

            The hope and the complete lack of sureness in his voice makes Louis actually choke up so much that he has to have a fake coughing fit to not blubber into the receiver. He feels like a trash compactor is slowly crushing him.

            “I’m looking at flights, right now, Haz.”

            “This will mean so much to her.”

            “I wouldn’t even consider not being there.”

            “I called to get a second opinion with the best pediatric oncologist in the area.”

            “When?”

            “Three on Monday.”

            “Okay, I’m going to be in LAX by one tomorrow, can you pick me up?”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Harry’s still crying.

            “I know this is hard on you, Haz, but you’re being so brave.”

            “I’m bawling, Louis, that’s not very brave.”

            “Did you keep it together at the doctor’s office?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Have you kept it together for Maisie?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Then you’re being brave. I don’t know anyone braver. I wouldn’t have been able to do it. You’re doing exactly what she needs.”

            “I can’t do this by myself.”

            “You won’t have to, I’ll be there.”

            Harry snorts but Louis doesn’t let himself be goaded into snapping back. Louis wants to yell at him, hash out their demons and resentment, or just confess how much he still loves him, how he’d do anything for him. He knows that won’t help Maisie, though; it’ll make him feel better, but it won’t actually make him feel any better, which, of course, makes no fucking sense.

            “Hey, I’ve got to pack, but I’ll see you at one tomorrow afternoon, okay? I’m going to call Niall see if he’ll keep the other kids till I get there tomorrow. Give Maisie a kiss for me, yeah?”

            “They have a newborn, Louis; I can’t do that to them.”

            “Which is why I’m going to ask. I’ll talk to Finn, too. We both know he’ll take care of Lola and Toby, probably better than I do. And Shane’s almost four months old, I hardly call that an infant.” 

            “Yeah, thanks Lou.”

            Louis feels like he’s been injected with helium; the nickname lifts his spirit so much. Louis goes into his closet and grabs his Nike roller bag and starts throwing clothes arbitrarily into it while he scrolls through his contact list until he comes to Niall. He’s trying to think of what to pack and he knows it’s still warm there but it gets chilly in the evening. He’s not sure how long he’s going to have to stay, and he has some clothes at his condo, but he can’t even really remember what’s there and it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because after all he’s rich and he could just buy himself new clothes while he was there.

            “Louis?” Niall answers perplexed.

            “Yeah.”

            “Isn’t it nearly three in the morning where you are?”

            “Yeah.”

            “What’s wrong?”

            “Could you keep the kids tonight?”

            “Of course, yeah, but why isn’t Harry calling? What’s going on? Is something wrong? Is Maisie all right? I know Harry was taking her to a doctor’s appointment, but he said he thought it was just the flu or something. Why are you up at three in the morning asking me this, Louis? Can Harry not? Why can’t Harry call me?”

            Niall sounds like he’s starting to panic and Louis can understand that feeling. Niall’s never been good at bad news, never taken to strife quite as well as the others. He gets panicky and anxious, and Louis knows it’s because he wants everyone to be happy, healthy, loved, and kind, which is because they come so easily to him. It’s not that Niall is some perfect person who never has a bad day or says something shitty to someone, but for the most part, he’s caring and compassionate. Sometimes, Louis wishes he could see the world more like Niall sees it and treat his relationships more like Niall does. Even though they’ve always tried to protect Niall from negative news, Louis now knows that tactic will only make it worse for Niall.

            “The doctor seems to think that it’s worse than we thought. Harry’s already scheduled another appointment, but if the doc is right, it’s really fucking serious,” Louis chokes up a little at the end and he curses himself. He wanted to sound neutral. Maybe, Harry should’ve called.

            “Fuck, okay, yeah. Anything you lads need.”

            “We’ll come by to get Toby around two or three.”

            “You’re coming. Shit must be real serious.”

            “Yeah, we’ll tell everyone more when we know what’s really wrong, but yeah just think good thoughts for her.”

            “Of course, mate, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            “I’m going to call Finn and talk to him. I know he’ll be worried.”

            “All right, bye.”

            “Bye, Niall. Thanks again.”

            Louis can feel his throat tightening like a too small collar at an uncomfortable interview and he knows he needs to call Finn to try to calm him, but he also knows that the sound of him emotional will not have that effect on his son. He heads to the kitchen and guzzles a bottle of water while he tries to think comforting thoughts. He thinks of Finn, Lola, and Toby and how much fun they probably had today hanging out at Niall’s. With a slight smile on his face, he dials Finn’s number.

            “Dad?” Finn greets.

            “Nobody says hello anymore?”

            “It’s just you never call this late. Isn’t it late there?”

            “Yeah, bud,” Louis replies; he pulls away from the phone to take a deep breath to try to clear out his sniffles, “I’m calling because you’re going to stay at Uncle Niall’s and Aunt Brigid’s house tonight, they’ll take you to school tomorrow, and I’ll be there after you get home from school. I’m coming to see you guys.”

            “What’s wrong, dad? What’s going on?” Finn asks and his voice is startled and less self-assured than his previous cadence. It reminds him of their divorce; Finn had been terrified it was his fault.

            “Maisie has more than the flu.”

            “What, dad?” Louis’s expecting him to sound more anxious this time, but he actually sounds fierce. It makes Louis smile at how protective his son is.

            “Nothing’s one hundred percent confirmed, so we’re going to take her to see a specialist on Monday.”

            “Is that why you’re coming home?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Okay.”

            “I need you to do me a favor.”

            “Okay.”

            “I need you to help Uncle Niall and Aunt Brigid with Lola and Toby. You know how they can be a handful, but they’ll listen to you. I don’t want you to defy Uncle Niall or Aunt Brigid in the name of taking care of them, but you’re good with them and you know their schedules. I’d really appreciate it if you helped them out.”

            “Of course, dad,” Finn sounds like he’s choking up a little but still so goddamn determined.

            “That’s my boy,” Louis says with tears in his eyes.

            “I won’t let you down.”

            “I know you won’t. Bye, love.”

            “Bye, dad.”

            He texts Niall when he’s done talking to Finn and Niall texts back:

 

            _he's putting lola and toby down like a boss…def didn’t kno how to make a 5 year old go to bed until last year_

Louis laughs and responds:

                       

                        _you’d already had 3 5 year olds before that_

Niall’s response is quick:

                        _yep_

                        _thanks again niall_

 

                        _np mate cu soon_

 

            Heathrow is awfully crowded for so early in the morning and he’s glad he called the security company because people are looking quite eager to come up to him. He only has the guard come to the gate with him because he didn’t give the security company enough warning to have the security guard fly with him.

            The flight is way too long, but he’s in first-class so he has he own little pod. He takes out his airplane blanket and curls into the seat. He’s lucky he sleeps most of the flight except the last couple of hours where he sends out emails. He emails and texts everyone at X-factor that he won’t be in for awhile that Liam will cover for him, which earns him a disgruntled response from Liam. He explains that he’s in LA and Liam’s responses soften and he seems to accept it easier than before.

            As horrible as this situation is, he’s still excited to see them. The anticipation is bouncing around in his stomach like the balls Finn likes to get from the little vending machines at restaurants and the thought of having to wait for his checked bag is excruciating. He’s petrified to see how sick Maisie might look and if he’ll cry on the first sight of them. He’ll want to he knows that. He slings his bag over his back the second the fasten seatbelt sign dings off. He’s one of the first people off the plane and he wants to sprint to the carousels but customs is a huge hindrance to that. Luckily, it doesn’t take him that long to get through the line. The baggage claim is crowded because it’s the middle of the day on a Friday. Everyone who’s spending their weekend in LA is arriving now, which includes an exceptional number of celebrities. Louis hears Maisie before he sees her and Harry.

            “Daddy,” Maisie yelps with a low crackle. She runs toward him and flings herself into his arms.

            “Hello, love,” he says, cuddling her close. He presses a hand into her back and then cradles her head with his other hand as if to block her from the world, “I’ve missed you, babe.”

            “Missed you too,” Maisie croaks and she’s almost panting from the exertion of her short run. Louis can feel the tears forming in his eyes and he blinks rapidly to hold them at bay. She’s lighter than the last time he saw her, her skin is a sallow color, and her breathing is erratic at best. He tries to control his breathing so she doesn’t know that she’s brought him to tears.

            He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels the warm, sizeable hand drop to his waist. He looks up to see Harry pressing his lips between teeth. His eyes shine with an incompatible mixture of despondency and gratitude. He goes back to pressing his face into Maisie’s neck, whispering nonsensically to her about how much he loves her. Harry squeezes them together between his arms, it’s oddly reassuring and not at all uncomfortable like Louis expects, and Louis is pretty sure he feels thin, dry lips press against his temple.

            “What bag did you bring?” Harry whispers into his ear.

            “The Nike roller.”

            “I’ll grab it.”

            “Thanks,” Louis murmurs. He wants to squeeze her closer, but he doesn’t want to hurt her delicate body that’s conceivably attacking itself at that very moment.

            “Love, how are you feeling?”

            “Okay, daddy, better now that you’re here.”

            “Glad I could be of service. What have you been up to?”

            “Can you just hold me daddy? I’m tired.”

            “Of course.”

            Harry’s rolling Louis’s bag behind him, a tiny, troubled smile on his face. It’s almost like his face is warring with what emotions it wants to manifest for the whole world to see. Louis’s arms are getting fatigued, but he refuses to put her down. He’ll probably feel a strain in his back for the next few days, but he thinks it’s well worth it because Harry caresses her curls and shares a look with Louis that only parents can share. As they’re walking to the car park, Louis notices the security guard trailing them.

            “He’s good,” Louis comments, gesturing towards the man in a black t-shirt and black pants.

            “He’s my regular security.”

            “He’s new.”

            “Yeah, he started about five weeks ago. His name is Liam, coincidentally.”

            “Fitting.”

            “I thought so.”

            “Are we going to talk about it?”

            “I don’t think it’s going to do any of us any good right now. We don’t know for sure what’s going on with her.”

            “That’s probably true. Also, how close is the car? I’m weaker than I remember.”

            Harry barks a laugh; it’s clearly unexpected with the way Harry covers his mouth and shakes his head. Louis grins into Maisie’s hair because he doesn’t want Harry to know how gleeful he is to be making Harry laugh again, after so many months of just tolerating him.

            “We’re close,” Harry informs him, even though it’s redundant now because Louis can see Harry’s Tesla.

            “I don’t want to put her down.”

            “Well you’re going to have to, you remember what happened to Britney Spears.”

            “You’re right, of course.”

            “Her blanket is in the back, she’ll be perfectly comfortable.”

            Harry puts Louis’s suitcase in the far back while Louis crawls into the backseat to latch Maisie into her seat. He tilts her seat back and adjusts her pillows and blankets around her so that she’ll be snug. Her eyes flutter a little, but she doesn’t wake up fully.

            “Isn’t security Liam going to come with us?”

            “No, he drove his own car. We have to pick up Toby, remember?”

            “But isn’t that why we bought the fancy-shmancy Tesla full-size SUV.”

            “Just get in the car.”

            “Fine.”

            Harry crawls into the driver’s seat just as Louis pulls himself into the passenger’s seat. Harry’s always been the better driver; when they’d first started dating, his cautiousness had driven Louis absolutely mad. But now, he knows that his children are going to be safe with Harry’s offensive driving.

            “How’s the jetlag?”

            “Good, I slept on the plane, so I should be all right. I hope.”

            “That’s good, Finn called this morning said he was a little worried, but you’d told him not to be worried so he was trying. Also, told me that he was excited to see you. He wants to kick around a football.”

            “I do too. I’m so excited to see them; I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

            “Me too. So how long are you here?”

            “As long as you need me to be here.”

            “This isn’t about me.”

            “I know that, but you are important in this.”

            “If you say so.”

            “Harry, don’t do this.”

            “Do what?”

            Louis doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to bring up the heavy pain that stifles their previous love, and he especially doesn’t want Maisie to wake up in the middle of a spat.

            “Never mind.”

            They don’t talk again. Louis finalizes X-factor plans for the next few days and presses his head against the supple leather headrest. This was an amazing investment, if he does say so himself.

            “Do you think we should bring her in?” Harry asks, glancing back at their sleeping daughter, when he pulls into Niall’s driveway.

            “It’ll probably bring her some joy to see them. How much has she been sleeping?”

            “Too much.”

            Louis makes a surprised noise.

            “Yeah, let’s bring her in.” Harry wakes her up gently and he holds her hand as they walk up to the door. Louis presses the buzzer.

            “Louis,” Brigid greets, a large grin on her face and a small child on her hip. She pulls him into a one-armed hug and kisses his cheek in greeting.

            “He’s gotten so big,” Louis comments, poking Shane’s tummy to make him giggle.

            “It’s good to see you, love.”

            “You too.”

            “Harry, Maisie, darlings, I’ve missed you two as well and it’s only been a few hours.”

            “Same,” Harry replies, and Maisie giggles as she presses into Harry’s side. They walk into the foyer to remove their shoes.

            “Louis,” Niall shouts as he runs down the stairs with Toby on his hip. Toby’s screaming, “Daddy,” the whole way down the staircase; they’re quite a picture. At least Louis still has his reflexes because Toby throws himself at him the minute he’s within catching distance.

            “Woah there,” Louis laughs, “Hello, little man.”

            “Daddy,” Toby screams, squeezing Louis’s neck.

            “Missed you.”

            “Play with me?”

            “Yeah, of course, bud.”

            “Are you guys hungry?” Brigid asks.

            “No, we’re fine,” Harry comments, as Louis and Maisie both respond, “Yes.”

            “You’ve been overruled H,” Niall laughs and heads into the kitchen. “We have some Udon noodles that we could heat up.”

            “Sounds fantastic, Nialler,” Louis responds as he plops down on the floor to play with Toby. He’s making a dinosaur roar and knock over a block tower, while Toby giggles jubilantly. Harry takes a spot on the couch and Maisie curls into his lap, watching Louis and Toby play. Her eyes plead to be on the floor, but she doesn’t seem able to move her body. Louis blows her a kiss and she catches it.

            “Now, that you’re here, you have to come on my show,” Niall says.

            “Right down to business, I see,” Louis snorts, “Who are you and what have you done with my Nialler?”

            “It’s been a slow week for guests.”

            “Well, I’m not sure how long I’m staying, but we’ll figure something out, yeah?”

            “You’re the best.”

            “Stop the business talk, you’re embarrassing,” Brigid says, shoving Niall’s shoulder as she hands a bowl to Louis and Harry.

            Louis folds his legs into a pretzel and eats at the coffee table. Harry does the same and pulls Maisie into his lap to eat. Maisie slurps up the noodles and tells Louis about the work she’s been doing at home to catch up in school. They stay for a little while longer, but Shane needs to take a nap and it looks like Brigid and Niall need one too.

            “Thanks again,” Harry and Louis acknowledge as they leave.

            “Any time,” Niall responds.

            “Your kids are absolutely lovely,” Brigid assures and presses kisses into all of their cheeks.

            They load the kids into the car and they drive to the LA house silently which isn’t very far. It’s only about a seven-minute drive. Even though the ride is short, both kids fall asleep. When they arrive, Louis glances at Harry when he doesn’t immediately jump out of the car. Harry’s eyes are glassy and Louis feels anxiety jump up his esophagus and then settle at the top of his stomach.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “That’s the first time she’s volunteered to eat in a week. I’ve been begging her to eat anything for days now. She only eats when I can cajole her with some squeezable applesauce and chicken rice soup. She told me it hurts too much to swallow. She probably ate today because she doesn’t want you to think she’s as sick as she is.”

            Louis licks his lips and wills the pinching behind his eyes to stop, “I’m sorry.”

            “What are you sorry for? You got her to eat.”

            “I’m sorry that you’ve been doing this alone.”

            “I’m used to it by now,” Harry babbles on an undertone that Louis almost doesn’t hear it.

            “I’ll carry Maisie inside.”

            “No, you carried her to the car. No need to strain your back anymore. Take Toby, I’ll get Maisie.”

            “My back will be fine; it’s your back I’m worried about.”

            “You don’t need to worry about me.”

            “I’ll get her.”

            “Okay, if you insist.”

            They put both kids to bed in their rooms, and then head downstairs to the gourmet kitchen. Harry busies himself making tea.

            “I think I’m going to take my stuff over to my place,” Louis announces.

            “You don’t need to do that; you could stay here,” Harry suggests.

            “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

            “What you can’t stand being with your kids for that long?”

            “Stop attacking me, Harry. You know that’s not true. It’ll just be easier for both of us. We’ll be able to get our space if we need it.”

            “You’re the one always wanting space,” Harry spits.

            “Harry, you know what I mean.”

            “I don’t actually.”

            “I don’t want to do this, right now. I’m tired.”

            “You said you slept on the plane.”

            Louis meant emotionally but he doesn’t dare utter it. Louis doesn’t respond for a while. They let the question lay a shroud over the room.

            “I’m going to go, so I can be back before the other kids get home.”

            “Fine.”

            His apartment makes him feel like someone is stuffing cotton up his nose and it reminds him that the last time he was there was nearly three months ago when he came home for Maisie’s birthday. He opens up the windows, even though it’s a little too warm outside just to get the fresh air circulating. He also makes a list of things that he’s going to need to order from Amazon and get express-delivered, even though he hates getting stuff delivered by drones. He’ll have to make a larger order in the future if he has to stay longer; he’s trying to be optimistic though. The stale smell has officially dissipated and he closes the windows and cranks the air-conditioner. He might be able to convince some of the kids to come home with him, but he wonders if that’s a wise decision. He’s just still livid at Harry’s remarks to think straight about their flawed family structure. It’s doesn’t help that Nick Grimshaw is sitting at the kitchen island when he arrives back at the house.

            “Grimshaw,” Louis greets gruffly.

            “Tomlinson,” Nick responds; a condescending smirk stretches across his features.

            “What are you doing here?”

            “I come after work everyday.”

            “Everyday?”

            “Yep,” Nick retorts, popping his ‘p’.

            He doesn’t have to acknowledge that extremely immature response because the back door is flying open and Harry and the kids are piling into the mudroom. Lola screeches when she sees Louis and charges towards him. She’s such a perfect combination of him and Harry, though she always has tilted more towards Louis. She’s his biological daughter after all, so it’s a wonder that she has so many of Harry’s features anyways. She’s wearing a tutu skirt and an Iron Man t-shirt, his little comic girl he thinks amusedly; she kicks off her shoes as she runs.

            “My daddy,” she squalls as she jumps up and into his arms.

            “My Lola.”

            “Missed you so much,” she says rubbing her hands against the scruff on his chin.

            “Missed you too, love-bug.”

            “Dad,” Finn greets.

            “Finn, come here, you’re not too big for a hug from your dad,” Louis teases, opening an arm to him. Finn squeezes his waist and Louis thinks that his bones might actually creak under his son’s arm.

            “I missed you,” Finn whispers into his ear, and Louis is taken aback that Finn can actually whisper in his ear without Louis having to bend down.

            “I missed you too,” Louis says, kissing his temple gently.

            “Want to go outside and play footie?” Finn asks.

            “Footie,” Lola cries and wiggles for Louis to put her down.

            “When have I not wanted to pass around a football with you guys?”

            “Awesome, I’m going to go change and get Toby,” Finn says.

            “Are you guys going to play footie?” Maisie asks rubbing her eyes as she walks over to Louis’s side and burrows her head into his softening tummy.

            “Yeah, love, but we don’t have to if you’d rather have us stay inside.”

            Finn makes an affronted noise but Louis sends him a withering look and he nods his understanding.

            “Maybe I could just go outside and watch.”

            “Yeah, babes, that sounds good.”

            Maisie sits on the stool next to Nick, “Hi Nick,” she says, always the most accommodating of their children, as Harry gives her a large glass of water.

            “Mais,” he greets and rubs her back gently. Maisie grins at him. Louis is horribly jealous. He wants to knock Nick’s hand away like it’s poison about to touch her lips. He knows it’s incredibly immature, but Maisie is his baby and who the fuck calls her Mais anyways, she’s not corn. There’s so much he wants to protect her from. He thinks he’ll say something dumb if he stays in close proximity to the man who usurped Harry’s love; his best bet is to go outside.  

            “Bring her outside when she’s ready, yeah? I’m going to set up the goals.”

            The goals are exactly where he always kept them. It makes him a little nostalgic, but he has to pull himself out of the daze. No need to wallow more. All six people who were in the house come out after he’s got the goals set up the perfect distance apart and secured into the ground. Harry’s holding a bouncing Toby and Nick is carrying Maisie on his back. Finn is holding Lola’s hand as she skips onto the grass. She’s still wearing her tutu but she has on a pair of cleats now.

            “I want to be on daddy’s team,” Lola yells as she shakes off Finn and runs to where Louis is stretching, “We’re going to kick their butts.”

            “Good sportsmanship, Lola,” Louis reminds gently.

            “Fine,” Lola heavy sighs.

            “Papa, you want to be on mine and Toby’s team?” Finn asks Harry.

            “You know I’m not very good.”

            “That’s okay.”

            “Somebody needs to sit with Maisie.”

            “I’ve got her, H,” Nick offers as he sits next to Maisie’s lounge chair and Louis wills Harry to not accept his offer for help.

            “Thanks,” Harry replies and he stands next to Toby who’s jumping up and down.

            The game is fun. Finn wins, despite having two baby giraffes on his team. Louis’s feeling his age when they get done, but the kids are tremendously cheerful and he’s delighted to be able to play with them, to be able to throw Lola and Toby into the air, to be able to hold them, and to just be near them. The only thing that dampens Louis’s contentment is Maisie laughing at something Nick said. Louis is more immature than a twelve year old in sex education class.

            “I’m going to make some fajitas for dinner.”

            “Yes,” all the kids shout.

            “Thanks, Harry,” Louis intones softly as he passes him in the mudroom.

            “The kids’ favorite.”

            “Yeah, I know, yeah,” Louis responds, but he also knows that Harry doesn’t make fajitas twice in one week unless it is a special occasion.

            “I think I’m going to go, H,” Nick declares, and Nick strains to kiss him, but Harry turns last minute and lets Nick’s lips fall on his cheek.

            “Bye,” Harry tells him.

            “Yeah, bye.” Nick looks rejected and Louis might smirk…a little.

            The kids all chorus a farewell and Nick waves to them. Harry starts cooking and Louis takes the rest of them into the living room to play. Maisie plops her feet into his lap and starts reading a book on her iPad. Lola and Toby start an elaborate game of pretend. Finn, however, is the exception; Finn sits extremely close to him and Louis was expecting him to play a video game or fake wrestle with Lola.

            “Dad, are you going to be staying for a long time?”

            “Maybe, I’m not sure yet.”

            “You and papa don’t seem as upset with each other.”

            “We’re both here for you kiddos.”

            “Are you guys going to get remarried?”

            “What brought this on?”

            “This,” Finn boasts as he shows him a picture on his phone.

            “Fuck,” Louis breathes out.

            “Bad word, daddy,” Maisie objects, kicking his thigh.

            “Sorry, love,” he murmurs, “Finn, I know what that looks like, but we’re not getting back together.”

            “But he’s kissing you,” Finn contends, “I know you still love each other. We want to be a family again.”

            “Oh, babe,” Louis sighs.

            “I hate this. I hate living apart,” Finn yells and stomps up the stairs.

            Harry pops his head into the living room, “What was that about?”

            Louis tickles Maisie’s feet and gets up to go talk to Harry alone in the kitchen. Harry raises his eyebrow at him and Louis shakes his head, “We need to speak alone.”

            “Okay,” Harry replies confused.

            “Finn saw this online,” Louis explains pulling up the picture that’s littering numerous sights.

            “Fuck,” Harry swears and Louis nudges his calf with his barefoot, “What was that for?”

            “Your daughter kicked me when I swore.”

            “Sounds like Mais.”

            “When did you start calling her Mais? She’s not corn on the cob.”

            “I guess it’s what Nick calls her and it’s caught on.”

            “Well, I think it should uncatch.”

            “You’re being immature. So he thinks we’re getting back together?”

            “He wants us all to be living together again.”

            “I invited you to stay.”

            “But it’s not the same, you know that.”

            “Whatever you say.”

            “This is hard on me. You know I never wanted the divorce.”

            “Don’t, don’t you dare put that on me. We both had to agree to it.”

            “But you know I didn’t. You know I just did it because I didn’t want it to be in the rags.”

            “I know that you blame me for our divorce, Louis, but could you at least accept that we were going nowhere.”    

            “Because you shut me out.”

            “I don’t want to talk about that.”

            “That’s exactly the problem.”

            “Get out,” Harry demands.

            Lola and Toby have to carry the family dinner on their own because Louis, Harry, and Finn are too upset and Maisie is nearly falling asleep in her plate. Finn runs back to his room when it’s over, but Harry and Louis, their differences aside, curl up with the rest of the kids to watch a movie selected by Maisie, even though she falls asleep after only a few scenes. Maisie lies with her head in Louis’s lap and her feet in Harry’s. Toby presses into Louis’s side and Lola presses into Harry’s. It reminds him of the family movie nights they had before the divorce. Louis puts his arm on the back of the couch and occasionally Harry’s curls brush his fingers. He’s desperate to tangle his fingers in to the locks, but he controls himself. It’s the most idyllic moment they’ve had in quite some time. All the kids and Harry are asleep by the time the movie is over. Louis carries each kid up to their room, kisses each of them goodnight, including Finn, and then gently wakes Harry.

            “Harry, I’m going back to my place; all the kids are fast asleep.”

            “Bye, love,” Harry mumbles, and Louis’s heart whirs like an overheating computer. He knows it’s just because Harry is in a sleep daze, but he still feels a thrill.

            Niall calls as Louis is walking into his apartment, “What are you up to?”

            “Just getting ready to go to bed.”

            “I’m coming over.”

            Niall shows up ten minutes later with two six-packs under his arms.

            “You can’t drink that much and drive home.”

            “Which is why I walked.”

            “Why are you here?”

            “Don’t give me that. You need a good patented Niall-Horan-drinking-therapy-session.”

            “Okay, come make yourself comfortable.”

            They chat late into the night and Louis will begrudgingly admit it makes him feel better. It doesn’t fix anything and he begs Niall not to say anything to Harry, but just talking it out with someone who cares about both of them makes him feel so much better. He doesn’t tell Niall what’s wrong with Maisie and Niall doesn’t push him. They’ll tell them after they get a second opinion for now they have to some hope that she’s just suffering from Mono or something less serious than lymphoma. He’s glad to be close to the people he cares about the most, even though the five-minute drive feels farther than the eleven-hour plane ride when he lies in his bed alone.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely want to know what you think about this chapter!  
> Thanks again!
> 
> I'm going to try to update this by Wednesday every week; your wonderful responses fueled me to get it in earlier.


	3. I’m Helpless Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis learn Maisie's prognosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's a day late! Hopefully, it's not a dollar short!

            Waking up alone, but being in LA is surreal to Louis. He takes a shower because he never got to wash the plane off of himself, and then he’s headed straight out to the house. It’s Saturday so the kids don’t have to go to schools. It also means that it’s pancake day. Louis doesn’t want to miss a heaping stack of pancakes and a pile of bacon, even if it is turkey bacon. He lets himself into the house and Harry is in the kitchen in just a pair of briefs. He’s making tea and the house is quiet so Louis assumes the kids are still sleeping.

            “Good morning,” he greets, trying to say it soft enough so that he doesn’t startle Harry. He still does; Harry jumps, spilling tea over the edge of the mug but missing his torso as it dribbles onto the floor.

            “Shit,” Harry murmurs.

            “Sorry.”

            “Just easily startled.”

            “I know, I tried not to.”

            “I know. So here for breakfast?”

            “It is pancake day, isn’t it?”

            “That it is.”

            “Any of the kids up?”

            “I heard Toby stirring when I came down. Thought I’d get a cup of tea and some clothes on before I grabbed him,” Harry explains as he pulls a hand through his sleep-tousled mane. Louis was trying not to get his attention taken away from Harry’s face because he knows if he looks at the body in front of him his own might react. When his arm drops away, Louis’s eyes are drawn to the tattoo on Harry’s thigh where his hand grazes before settling back at his side. It doesn’t take him long to start cataloging all the tattoos on Harry’s body that align so perfectly with his own. It’s almost like he’s checking to make sure they’re still there, the proof of the love they once had.

            That’s the problem though; there is so much proof all around them. The pictures of them as a family, the tattoos, the house, the blanket Harry and Louis bought for their first house, hell, even the kids are proof of the love they once had. The love they once had is a constant throbbing entity, like an excised limb that still itches.

            “I better get dressed if I have to make enough pancakes for you too,” Harry jokes as he heads towards the stairs.

            Louis walks around to the other staircase so that he doesn’t have to follow Harry, clad in only a scrap of material, upstairs. Toby is sitting on his bed with a pile of dinosaur toys. He’s probably trying to play but he’s still drowsy. His blinking is almost ferocious and his limbs move with a sleepiness Louis has missed.

            He’s missed out on so much of Toby’s life and he knows he could have him wake up at his London abode fifty percent of the time; he’s just never had the nerve to ask for it. He didn’t, still doesn’t, want to make it worse between him and Harry. They have shared custody. He wants the kids to come live with him, but he also doesn’t want to be resented. As much of a hard ass as he always seems, he can’t bear to be resented by the people he loves. He knows Finn would hate being away from his friends and football, Maisie would be fine but she’d feel guilty about leaving Harry, Lola would miss her bedroom and Niall, and Toby would miss Harry. Louis almost feels like a stranger to their youngest child. He’d only consistently lived with them for a few weeks after Toby was born.

            “Hi baby,” Louis addresses his son who turns and grins gently.

            “Daddy,” Toby squawks and reaches up for him. Louis picks him up and he’s a heavy, sleepy weight. He cuddles into Louis’s jumper under his chin. Louis carries him around to the other rooms, waking up the kids. Lola pops out of bed and plows past them to get downstairs to the television first. Maisie moves slowly and presses into Louis’s side, making him hold up a majority of her weight. Finn’s playing a game on his iPad, but when he sees Maisie leaning against Louis holding Toby, he jumps up and offers to take his sluggish brother. Louis doesn’t want to give up the comforting, cuddly weight, but he knows that he’s offering because he can’t carry Maisie who looks weary.

            “Thanks,” Louis says, squeezing Finn’s shoulder as he scoops Maisie into his arms. She curls into him and it’s weird to have his nine-year-old daughter feel similar to her brother who’s six years her junior. She only has a little bit of weight on him, but the exhaustion is far more evident in the deadness of her weight. He wants to protect her and cuddle her forever.

            When they finally arrive downstairs, Lola’s sprawled on the couch haphazardly under a fleece blanket. She’s watching a cartoon and Finn sighs but plops into a recliner and wraps his blanket around his shoulders, closing his eyes. When Finn set him down, Toby was almost immediately in Louis’s lap next to Maisie. They’re both cuddled into him asleep. Lola’s the only one really awake and that’s probably only because she got to choose the television show.

            “It looks like a pretty typical Saturday,” Harry comments from the doorway to the kitchen, “Lola’s always the most awake and commandeers the TV. Finn almost always just falls back asleep. Those two either fall asleep on each other or Maisie reads to Toby.”

            “I’ve missed cuddling them,” Louis can’t believe he’s admitting this out loud.

            Harry almost looks ready to riposte but then he looks at him longer and his face softens, “They miss you too. They’re glad you’re here.”

            “I’m so glad I’m here.”

            He knows there’s part of Harry that doesn’t believe him; the same part that asked for the separation and then the divorce. It’s the same part of Harry that wouldn’t talk to him after that hellish week over three years ago. It’s the equivalent to the part within himself that thinks he has no chance of finding anybody better than Harry. The equivalent part that didn’t think he could share with Harry how he was feeling and didn’t think he could help Harry during the same hellish week.

            “That’s good,” Harry mumbles as he turns back to the kitchen, except he doesn’t sound like it’s good at all.

            They don’t do anything the whole day but laze around the house because it’s the only rainy day LA has had in quite some time, and, of course, there’s torrents of rain. Finn’s football game is canceled and they cancel the other things they had up on their agendas. They watch a plethora of Disney/Pixar films, while the other kids nap they let Finn choose a Marvel film, they play pretend, they take out a bunch of games to play and they scarf all the food Harry produces, including chocolate chip cookies.

            After dinner, Louis helps Harry put the younger kids to bed. He sings to Toby and Maisie, and he reads a few books to Lola. Finn’s allowed to stay up until midnight if he wants to, not that Harry likes him to. Louis plops down on the couch next to him; Louis always forgets how old he is when he gets thrown into a full-time kid routine.

            “Dad?”

            “Yeah, Finn?”

            “Can I come stay with you?”

            “Tonight?”

            “For, however, long you’re here.”

            “I don’t know, bud.”

            “You don’t want me to?”

            “That’s not it. It’s just your papa needs a lot of help right now.”

            “I miss living with you and getting to play footie all the time. I just really miss you, dad.”

            “I miss you too. You know that.”

            “Can you ask papa?”

            “Yeah, but let’s just do a trial run. Maybe, just tonight.”

            “But dad…” Finn whines.

            “It’ll be easier that way.”

            “Okay, but I want to do it.”

            “I’ll go talk to your papa,” Louis sighs.

            Harry’s doing dishes when Louis walks in and asks, “Can I help?”

            “What do you want Louis?”

            “Finn wants to know if he can come stay with me,” Louis announces delicately.

            “Shit,” Harry swears as he drops a mug into the enameled cast iron sink and it explodes into pieces. Louis can see his fingers shaking and he wants to wrap his arms around Harry, hold his hand over Harry’s heart that’s probably pounding erratically, and kiss the back of his neck. Louis doesn’t want to see this man slowly fall apart, especially since he won’t let Louis hold him together.

            “So I’m just going to lose another kid?” Harry hisses as he tries to pick up the pieces.

            “Don’t, you’re going to cut yourself,” Louis reprimands and gently nudges Harry out of the way. “You’re not losing him and you’re not going to lose Maisie either.”

            “They’re all going to want to live with you.”

            “No, they’re not.”

            “They love you more than me.”

            “Stop being stupid, Harry, they don’t. It may see like that, but it’s only because I’m not here everyday. But that’s another reason that I’d like him to come stay at least for a little while. I’d like to see more of all of them. Toby and even Lola don’t remember when I lived here.”

            “That’s not my fault.”

            “I know, but it doesn’t make it any less true.” Louis grabs all of the little pieces that have dispersed themselves into the sink.

            “I mean it’s not like I can say no; we have shared custody.”

            “I don’t want to make it about that.”

            “Well, that’s the only reason I’m letting him go.”

            “I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

            Finn packs an overnight bag and they start a Marvel marathon when they get to Louis’s place. Finn sleeps in the guest room and they both wake up late the next morning. It’s nice enough out so they meet the Horans at a local park. Louis and Harry are both nervous about Maisie’s appointment the next day, and Niall and Brigid help to counteract them. Louis’s surprised that Niall and Brigid’s active nine-year-old son, Brennan, spends the entire time sitting next to Maisie even though the rest of the kids minus Shane, Louis, and Niall play a game of footie. He can tell Maisie urges him to play but he shows undeterred interest in the Harry Potter book she’s reading. Maybe, he has a crush on her and it’s sweet but also aggravating.

            Harry spends the whole time holding Shane who is loving the attention. It reminds Louis that they’d always wanted six children and they would’ve tried to have a child this year. He needs to stop these trains of thoughts from overrunning his entire thought process.

            The rest of the evening goes the same as before, but Harry sends Finn with a muffin for the morning because Louis is going to take him directly to school. It’s weird to be back doing school runs, but he kind of missed it: he misses waking up bleary-eyed children and having utterly strange conversations about socks.

            The appointment comes too quickly for Louis’s liking, like a wave that knocks you down and shoves sand up your nose. The tightness of his companions’ features tells him that they’re not ready for it either. He kisses the top of Maisie’s head and squeezes Harry’s shoulder; Harry tenses a little but his face relaxes equally and he tries to smile at Louis. Before the divorce, Louis would’ve pressed his lips to the underside of Harry’s chin and then squeezed his waist tightly. Now all he has is an innocuous shoulder squeeze.

            Harry has plaited Maisie’s hair and she looks smaller and younger. Harry always used to braid her hair when she was playing jungle adventurers in the yard with Finn. It hits him suddenly that in a few weeks her hair might be gone, so he kisses it again and relishes in the soft silky quality of it.

            Louis doesn’t listen during the consultation; he knows it’s selfish and juvenile to make Harry take it all on himself but he’s always been better at this. Harry has to expect this by now that Louis’s useless when it comes to serious things. He keeps his lips pressed to Maisie’s head as she keeps her face pressed into the spot between his neck and the opening of his jumper.

            “Louis, do you want to add anything?” Harry asks glancing at them. His face teeters on fondness.

            “She’s complained about it being harder to swallow, she always seems to be running warm, and I don’t remember her being this light since I moved out three years ago,” he reports dutifully. The doctor nods, making marks on the chart in his arms.

            “I’ve looked at the blood work and her records, and unfortunately, the signs are pointing towards lymphoma,” the doctor explains. Louis’s ears start buzzing and he blinks rapidly. “We’ll do a PET scan and then a biopsy.” He’s shouting from the deck of a ship and Louis is drowning in the sea.

            “The PET scan we can do today, but the biopsy will have to wait until we can examine the scan images. When was the last time she ate?”

            “Eleven-thirty.”

            “That’s good; I’ll see when we can get her in.”

            The doctor leaves and Harry sinks down, his shoulders slumping over. Louis wants to reach out for him and pull both of them into his chest. He’s feeling the protective itch at the base of his spine.

            “What’s a PET scan?” Maisie mumbles into his collar.

            “It’s kind of like an x-ray, except it looks for tumors and other things,” Harry says and he’s closer now; his hand trails up and down her back.

            “Is it going to hurt?”

            “They’re going to have to inject something into your arm and leave the IV for a while, but then the machine is just going to whir around you.”

            “Will you sit with me?”

            “They’re probably not going to let us inside, baby,” Harry informs softly, “But daddy and I will be waiting outside for you until you’re done.”

            “I’m scared.”

            “I know baby,” Harry murmurs, kissing her temple. She’s turned to look at him, but she hasn’t lifted her head off of Louis’s chest. Harry drops his head against Louis so he’s looking right into her eyes with their noses almost touching, “We’ll be here the whole way. Your daddy and I will be here with you always.”

            She glances up at Louis with question marks in her eyes and it hurts a little, the genuine lack of sureness in her shamrock-colored eyes. He makes sure his blue ones meet hers and he nods vigorously, “I’ll be here.”

            “But X-factor and London.”

            “Do you need me?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then here I am.”

            “But I always need you.”

            Louis can’t respond to that, doesn’t want to respond to that, knows that he’s been gone because of his inability to cope, and he whispers, “I know. I’m sorry.”

            “It’s okay.” 

            They go to the imaging center at the hospital and Louis holds her in his lap as they give her the IV. She cries a little but not dramatic sobs, just little droplets running down her cheeks. Harry reads her book to her out loud and she rests her head back against Louis’s chest. Harry uses voices for each character as he reads and waits for the technician to come get them. They’re there for much longer than Louis likes and the wait after they take her away is insufferable. He gets fidgety and Harry keeps sending sharp glares at him.

            “I don’t think I can do this,” he confesses suddenly and Harry whips his head to look at him.

            “You have to stay,” Harry orders; his voice is cross and edging on distraught.

            “I know,” Louis admits, “I don’t even mean like that. I just don’t know how to cope with this Harry.”

            “I know how you feel,” Harry affirms almost inaudibly, “She’s our baby. We don’t want to see her hurt. We don’t want her body to be attacking her. We want her to be happy and healthy and she’s neither of those things, but we have to be strong for her.”

            “I’ll try, Harry.”

            “Fine.”

            Louis can’t respond because the technician comes back and tells them they’re done. Harry asks about the results but the technician says that he’s not at liberty to make a diagnosis, but they’ll probably be contacted the next day. Louis wishes this wouldn’t drag on that they would just know.

           

            Louis doesn’t have to wait long. The next morning the question is reality.

 

            She gets a biopsy the next day.

 

            The next day they talk about treatment plans.

 

            The first person he calls is his mother and she listens to him while he cries. He cries at movies and when the kids do something extra sweet, but these broken piercing tears are different; they’re vulnerable. He sits in the middle of his mattress when he knows Finn’s fast asleep in the guest room and bawls. He can hear her soft tears, but he also hears her clack away on the computer and then she’s telling him the survival rates of Hodgkin’s lymphoma. It’s to make him feel better and to an extent it does, but it’s not as much about her surviving, he knows the rates, he knows that her probability is good. He cries about her suffering. The suffering is inevitable, that’s what clenches up his chest, and his mother can’t soothe that away with statistics because they all know Maisie is going to be in agony.  Louis calls his siblings, but Harry takes most of the other calls, except Liam because Louis needs to ask Liam a huge favor.

            “Tommo, when are you coming home?”

            “Hello, Liam.”

            “When are you coming home?”

            “I am home.”

            Liam sighs heavily but indulges him, “When are you coming back to London?”

            “Um, never?”

            “Louis,” Liam huffs, “You have responsibilities here. I know you miss your kids but seriously this is ridiculously immature.”

            “Maisie has lymphoma.”

            “Now you’ve made me feel like a knobhead. You could’ve led with that.”

            “Yes, but then you wouldn’t have shoved your foot into your esophagus.”

            “I’m really sorry, Lou, give her a kiss for me. Tell her I love her.”

            “I will, thanks,” Louis edges on tears and lets out a calming breath.

            “You need me to take over at X-factor, don’t you?”

            “Seems like it.”

            “Of course, I’ll do it.”

            “Thanks, Liam. I really appreciate it.”

            “Should’ve recorded this conversation. Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words in that order with such a genuine tone.”

            “Don’t push it Payno.”

            “I am really sorry about Maisie.”

            “I’ll Skype in as much as I can.”

            “They’re in good hands, Louis.”

            “I know that. It’s why I asked.”

            “Two compliments, I don’t know if I can handle it.”

            “Bye, Liam.”

            “Bye.”

            After his tears to his mum, Louis feels numb; it’s Saturday and they try to make the best out of a bad situation. It’s only a week and a half until Halloween, Maisie will only be a few treatments in, he shivers at the thought. He knows his life will resort to a measurement of how many treatments Maisie has had. She had taken the news fairly well. She had nodded at the doctor when he explained what will happen, she pressed herself flush against Harry’s side, and she hung onto Louis’s hand for dear life. The sobbing didn’t start until they got home. All the kids can read at how upset they were. They’ve never been good at hiding it. Sometimes, Louis thinks Finn knew they were getting divorced before they did.

            “Tell me what’s wrong,” Finn demands after they put Toby down for a nap and Lola crawls into bed with Maisie, making Louis think Lola has an inkling as well.

            “Noth…” Harry begins, but Finn cuts him off with a sharp, angry look.

            “I’m old enough to know what’s going on. You tried to hide your divorce from me and now you’re trying to hide something with Maisie and it’s not nice. It’s not fair.”

            “Life’s not fair,” is Louis’s instinctual response. Harry sends him an annoyed look and Finn’s cheeks flush.

            “Tell me,” he screams.

            “Finn, calm down.”

            “No. Tell me!”

            “I need you to calm down first.”

            “Something’s wrong with my sister and you won’t tell me what. I want to know what.”

            “She has lymphoma,” Louis tells him; Harry will beat around the bush and it’s not going to soften the blow. Nothing will soften the blow of this.

            “Lymphoma?”

            “It’s a type of cancer. It affects the lymph nodes, mostly. The things that get big in your throat when you’re sick. She has cancer in those.”

            “Is she going to die?”

            “Hopefully not, they caught it in the beginning stages, and with chemo and radiation, they’re hoping she gets better, but she has cancer, Finn. That’s what’s wrong.”

            “She’ll be okay,” Finn chokes up, “Promise me she’ll be okay.”

            “I can’t,” Louis whispers, his own eyes welling, “I would if I could.”

            “Papa, promise me she’ll be okay?”

            “Your dad’s right, we can’t promise you that.”

            There’s real tears now and snot. He’s turning crimson at his attempt to hold it in. It looks like the three of them are having a standoff and then Louis opens his arms. Finn falls into them. Harry closes in on them and Louis can feel Harry’s hands graze his sides. They stand there for a while until Finn shakes them off and takes the stairs two at a time. They follow him more slowly and they find him with his arms around Maisie’s waist, his head in her stomach. She’s reading a book over his head and Lola is lying on the pillow next to her.

            They leave the kids alone and head downstairs to the kitchen. Harry immediately busies himself with making tea and Louis suddenly wonders if this is the only way he can comfort Louis now that they’re divorced. Before he would’ve pulled Louis to the couch, wrapped himself around Louis, and kissed him with feather touches. As he drinks the tea now, it warms him in a different way.

            “We have to make things better for them,” Harry declares and it feels almost like an order.

            “What do you propose?”

            “An awesome Halloween. Hopefully, she won’t feel that horrible yet.”

            “She already feels horrible.”

            “Not too horrible.”

            “Think they’ll be the Pevensie children with her.”

            “Lola really wanted to be Thor.”

            “That’s my girl but I think she’ll be Lucy if we ask her.”

            “Most definitely for trick-or-treating.”

            Louis and Finn go back to the flat after all the other kids are fast asleep and it’s heading into the morning hours. Finn acts like he doesn’t want to go bed and Louis doubts that’s true, but he gets him to go at around one-thirty. He says goodnight to Finn and there’s something off, something that’s so off Louis can’t fall asleep at a decent time because of it. It’s three in the morning before Finn comes out of his room. His cheeks have tear tracks and he scurries onto Louis’s bed when he gestures for him to come in after he knocks on the door.

            “Finn, what’s wrong?”

            “I’m so scared and  I miss home.”

            “You don’t have to stay here, love, I’ll be fine by myself. It’s not like we’re spending too much time here anyways.”

            “I miss Maisie and Lola and Toby and Papa and my room and the way Papa has the food laid out when we get up and how smiley everyone is in the morning and you’re a grump dad.”

            “Thanks a lot,” Louis laughs and pulls Finn into his side.

            “And I want to be near Maisie when she’s sick.”

            “That makes sense.”

            “And papa will need my help.”

            “That’s true.”

            “But I’ll miss you. I’ll miss how you’ll play footie with me and you make tea in the morning and you give me some even though Papa hates it but I know you bought special decaffeinated kind so I could have some and I’ll miss knowing that you’re right down the hall instead of in London.”

            “I’m not going back to London anytime soon.”

            “I’m scared.”

            “Me too, love, me too.”

            “So I can go back?”

            “Of course love.”

            “And you’ll be here?”

            “And I’ll be here.”

            “Promise?”

            “That’s a promise I can keep.”

           

            The first day of treatments hits Louis like a double-decker bus. Maisie looks so small and sick in the chair, but she’s peaceful and so beautifully kind to everyone around her. She offers the kid next to her a slice of her pita bread and says thank you to all the nurses. She is so much like Harry that it kills Louis. He and Harry have decided to split up the days, so as not to disturb the other kids’ schedules. They don’t want any aggression or jealousy between Maisie and their other children. Louis wants to take more days with the other kids, even though he hasn’t done a daily routine by himself in a while. He can’t do sereneness like Harry, he’s only capable of sulking and grimacing when people hurt his daughter with needles and chemicals.

            “It’s not that bad, daddy,” she smiles, “I can read a lot of the books papa bought me.”

            “You’re too good, baby.”

            “I got in trouble a while ago because I hid Finn’s iPad because he kept talking to his friends really loud.”

            Louis laughs because he remembers that phone call and a while ago equates to a few months. The thing about Maisie is that she’s never really caused them any problems, not like Finn or Lola, even Toby is more of a troublemaker than Maisie, so when they have to punish her they’re never sure what to do. Harry had almost pulled his hair out trying to think of something suitable.

            “You’re never in trouble.”

            “Sometimes, I am. It’s just I’m too tired now.”

            “I know, love.”

            “You’re all done,” the nurse declares.

            Louis moves to pick her up, “I can walk, daddy.”

            “All right.”

            She holds his hand and they walk out together. Louis can tell she’s tired, but she’s trying for him. He feels weak; his daughter has cancer and she’s trying to make him feel better. He’s useless in these types of moments. He’s always been good at making people feel less nervous, but never less sad because he always lets it overwhelm him. He feels like he’s treading water in a wave-ridden ocean. He doesn’t want to drown but he feels like it’s his only option.

            Harry is still at the house when they get back; he’s making lunch, Maisie’s favorite, macaroni and cheese. She eats a small bowl but not her usual two to three large servings. Harry tucks her in and Louis goes to lie down in the living room. He wishes it was him desperately, wishes he could transfer the cancer to his own body.

            “You can’t leave,” Harry snarls.

            “Harry, I don’t want to do this.”

            “This is why we’re divorced. You wallow.”

            “At least I don’t pretend like nothing happened.”

            “That’s rich,” Harry cackles.

            “I know you’re stronger than me; I would appreciate you not rubbing it in my face.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “You deal with these things better than I do, but it’s hard on me too Harry.”

            “I know that.”

            “Do you? Do you really? Or are you just like everybody else and think because I’m brash and act like an asshole that it means I don’t care. Well, you know what, I’m fucking weak. It hurts for me to watch her suffer. I know I said, ‘I can’t,’ because it’s just too hard but I will. It is hard, but I’m here and I’ll do whatever it takes. I love her, I love them.”

            “You realize why that’s hard to believe.”

            “You wouldn’t talk. I thought you were fine.”

            “Why would I be fine?”

            “Because you’re Harry.”

            “It’s over it doesn’t matter.”

            “It still matters, Harry, if that’s the only reason we’re divorced then let’s talk about it.”

            “We’re not talking about this.”

            “You’re so fucking frustrating.”

            “So are you. And if you’re looking for a reason for our divorce that’s the reason.”

            “Stop, okay, stop.”

            “Oh, and I’m the one that doesn’t want to talk.”

            Harry storms into his office and Louis goes outside to kick around a football. There’s not much else he can do at this point. Louis goes and gets the other kids while Harry and Maisie play a game of monopoly. All the other kids are really gentle with her and it makes her smile. It makes him and Harry smile too. Maybe, they’ll make it through this. 

            But the next afternoon, that feelings short-lived, Maisie throws up most of the food she ingests. She sits on the couch with alternating people, a glass of Pedialyte, a movie, and a stainless-steel bowl. She can only sit propped up and Louis’s ridiculously angry the whole fucking day. He can’t decide if he’s angry about the fight he had with Harry or the fact that his daughter is so desperately ill.

            “Stay,” she pleads after Louis has put Lola and Toby to bed, “Finn came back, so can you.” He can’t imagine that Harry’s offer still stands.

            “You can stay, Louis,” Harry concedes, and Louis knows that Harry says it in front of Finn and Maisie so he’ll have to stay. He’s not quite sure why he wants to torture himself and Louis.

            “See dad,” Finn teases, “Everyone wants you to stay.”

            “Please,” Maisie beseeches again.

            “Of course, I’ll just go get my stuff.”

            “You can borrow some of papa’s pajamas,” Finn tells him, a small smirk on his features.

            “No, they won’t fit right. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

            “You used to wear them all the time,” Finn argues.

            “That was a long time ago.”

            “Louis, it’s fine,” Harry sighs as he watches Louis fidget and Finn play puppet master.

            “All right, I’m staying.” 

            “You’re a brat,” Louis hisses at Finn, nudging his son’s shoulder as Harry walks up the stairs for some clothes.

            “Learned from the best,” Finn snickers.

            “Insolent little wanker.”

            “Did you just call our son a wanker?” Harry asks incredulously as he returns to the room with a stack of worn joggers and a jersey-knit tee.

            “If the shoe fits,” Louis barks back.

            “I hope you don’t take after him,” Harry jokes to Finn.

            “O, yes, and you’re such an angel,” Louis teases.

            “You’re both horrible,” Finn assesses, “But I love you guys.”

            “We love you too,” they respond together. Finn laughs and Maisie giggles at their affronted looks.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a set-up chapter, but I hope you still liked it.
> 
> All feedback is welcome.
> 
> PS Holy Cow, 100 kudos!
> 
> 5/5 Update: I promise this will be updated soon, but I have an interview tomorrow! Have no fear I am working on it!


	4. In The Lonely Hour, I Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis discuss the reason for their divorce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your wonderful responses! I can't believe it, honestly.
> 
> I'm sorry about the slow update; this is kind of the busy season for getting a job for me so I must pounce. 
> 
> I hope you like it.

            Louis knows the telltale signs that Harry’s nerves are fraying. He makes his cuticles bleed, he forgets to do his skincare regime so he breaks out, and he gets greasy takeaway two days in a row. Louis is worried about him. He’s taking everything on to his shoulders and not allowing anyone else to help. It’s how Harry has always responded to bad situations. He only begrudgingly lets Louis help and that’s because Louis forces himself into situations; he doesn’t let Harry shake him off.

            “You need to get out,” Louis informs Harry as they eat lunch at the kitchen counter after a particularly grueling week of treatments for Maisie.

            “I’m fine.”

            “You’re not, you’re stressing and it’s not good for you.”

            “Don’t push it, I’m fine, Louis.”

            “It’s not good for Maisie.”

            “Don’t start.”

            “Harry, go out, have fun. Do something for yourself.”

            “I don’t want to leave Mais.”

            “I’ll be here. She’ll be fine.”

            “She’s dying, Louis.”

            “No, she’s not,” Louis growls, his teeth gnashing together painfully, “You can’t think that way. Go out after she’s in bed. She won’t even know you’re gone.”

            “I’ll think about it,” Harry concedes.

            Louis should’ve known when he ordered Harry out that Nick Grimshaw was going to show up one Saturday night after the kids, except Finn, were all in bed. Louis is worried that his teeth are going to turn into little stubs after all the stress this experience is putting on him.

            “Aren’t you a little old to be going out to a club Grimshaw?”

            “I don’t know about you, Tomlinson, but when a beautiful man asks me to take him out, I take him out.”

            “Papa, Nick’s here,” Finn calls up the stairs in the hopes of stopping the bickering and keeping two grown men from embarrassing themselves.

            Louis almost wishes he hadn’t come back downstairs, wishes that he was still upstairs reading with Maisie, and not downstairs when Harry comes down because Harry looks bloody fantastic. He’s wearing trousers that cling to his muscular thighs and a sheer, printed top that’s unbuttoned to right under his butterfly tattoo. He’s wearing a necklace that Finn got him last year for Christmas; Louis had helped him pick it out, not that he would let Finn tell Harry that. Finn gives Louis a look and it’s conspiring like they have something over Nick and Harry. Louis takes it as a victory, albeit a small one. Nick kisses Harry’s cheek, but Harry’s face remains somewhat reluctant.

            “I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” Harry informs them, sounding almost hesitant to leave.

            “I think we’ve got this under control,” Louis declares and Finn nods. Harry smiles at them this time and then leads Nick out the door. Nick rests his palm against the small of Harry’s back and turns to bid farewell to Louis and Finn, even though Louis thinks it’s to rub in his face that he’s the one touching Harry intimately.

            He and Finn stay up and watch a footie match that was on the night before. Finn makes popcorn and Louis loves how he’s getting older even though it’s nerve wrecking to watch his son maneuver a hot stock pot over the flame on the industrial stove.

            Finn falls asleep on the couch and Louis doesn’t want to wake him. He’s pretty sure that his son isn’t sleeping well since his sister’s diagnosis, so he leaves him there. Louis imagines that this is what it’s going to feel like in the future when he’s waiting up for the kids to come home from dates. He hears the front door open and close; Harry’s tinkling giggle follows. It’s his drunk, flirting giggle; Louis knows it well, used to be on the receiving end regularly. Louis sinks into the couch, not wanting Harry to know he’s awake. They’re shuffling around and Louis’s pretty sure he hears an aroused moan. He lies as still as possible, but Finn starts shifting as they stumble into another wall. Louis can feel Finn wake up and hear the way his breathing changes, but then Finn’s lying rigidly against Louis’s leg. Finn knows exactly what’s happening and it’s making him uncomfortable. He grips Louis’s leg tightly and then whispers ever so softly, “Daddy?”

            Louis doesn’t stir or respond. He tries to seem as peaceful as possible; he’s not sure why he chooses this route. However, it seems to be the best option because Finn relaxes against him and waits for the drunken clomping to make its way up the stairs. He pats Louis’s shoulder as he walks past. Louis doesn’t move, but he knows the living room is right below the master bedroom, so it probably won’t do him any good to stay lying on the couch. He goes to the guest bedroom and turns on the TV and fan in hopes of drowning out any noise that may be coming from the upstairs room. He doesn’t sleep well that night.

            Blessedly the next morning, Nick is gone, but Louis’s still reminded of him when he sees a hickey peeking out from below Harry’s pullover. It’s there on purpose he has no doubt. Harry is bleary-eyed but he’s still making a full-English breakfast.

            “Hung over?”

            “Forgot how old I am,” Harry croaks. He sounds ruined and exhausted; Louis wants to make him tea and curl around him like a blanket.

            “I’ll handle the kids today if you want to rest.”

            “I was thinking movie day. The kids always loved those and there was rarely any yelling. It will be nice for my headache and hangovers always make me crave junk food.”

            “Yeah, sounds good.”

            Movie days were a monthly thing when they were married, had been since before they got married. Whoever was around would participate in the ultimate lounging day. Niall would always create drinking games around certain movie tropes, Liam would lie on the end of the bed like a Labrador, and Zayn would inevitably fall asleep. Movie days always took place in their large custom-made bed with homemade popcorn, Skittles, Red Vines, delivery Pizza, and numerous varieties of Coca-Cola. They were some of the best days in Louis’s memory. Occasionally, when it was just the two of them, movie days would be naked days and it got ridiculous and messy usually, but Louis thinks it kept them together.

            “We don’t have any junk food,” Harry says as he goes through the cupboards.

            “What are you doing to our children?” Louis asks exasperatedly and he expects an angry retort.

            “Starving them clearly,” Harry chuckles.

            “I’ll take Finn to the store with me.”

            “Sounds good, you know it’s going to have to be mostly appropriate movies. Toby and all.”

            “Yes, Harry, I remember we have a three year old.”

            “Just checking.”

            “Finn,” Louis yells up the stairs and Harry cringes, “I need your help.”

            Finn comes stomping down the stairs, rubbing his eyes, “What?”

            “That was rude,” Louis reprimands teasingly.

            “Father, you called? How can I be of service?”

            “Sarcasm is strong in this one,” Louis jokes.

            “Of course, it is; he’s your son,” Harry laughs.

            “O so now he’s my son.”

            “I’m obviously your son, hello, eyes, hair, nose, chin,” Finn lists and then huffs, “and height.”

            “Oi, lay off.”

            “You brought that on yourself,” Harry snorts.

            “We’ll be right back, keep breakfast warm for us.”

            “Yeah, I love a full breakfast,” Finn agrees.

            “Minus the baked beans,” Louis grouses.

            “I like the baked beans,” Finn replies.

            “See, clearly not my son.”

            “Go, otherwise, everything’s going to be burnt when you come back.”

            “Going,” Louis yells, maybe to stab at Harry’s headache, dragging Finn out the door.

            They get back in a matter of minutes because Louis just let Finn pull whatever he wanted off the shelves and doesn’t even look at the price as the cashier rings it up. Finn’s grin overtakes his whole face and Louis sees Harry balk at the amount of sugar they lug back into the house but he doesn’t say anything, just dishes up two plates: one with beans, one without.

            “Yuck, beans,” Toby complains and Louis cheers.

            “He’s three,” Harry reminds.

            “My baby boy, I love you,” Louis roars.

            Toby gives him a funny look and shoves a handful of hash browns into his mouth. Toby pats Louis’s arm and it feels tacky after Toby pulls his hands away. Louis makes a face that makes the rest of the people at the table laugh. Family breakfasts were always sticky and magical.

            The number of pillows that they have in the house is probably illegal Louis thinks as Lola, Toby, and Finn run to all the parts of the house in order to bring every single pillow into the master bedroom. Louis’s disoriented when he first walks into the room. All the furniture is moved around and the walls are painted. It feels like a betrayal even though he knows it’s hypocritical. He knows that he did the exact same thing in the London house, so the betrayal goes both ways.

            “All right kiddos what should we watch first?” Louis asks as he climbs in next to Maisie.

            “ _Thor,_ ” Lola and Finn start chanting.

            “ _Finding Dory_ ,” Maisie argues softly and Toby nods vigorously.

            “We’re going to go with _Finding Dory_ ,” Harry declares.

            “You’re only doing that because she has cancer,” Finn mumbles and Maisie deflates, turning her head into Toby’s side.

            “Hallway, Finnian Desmond,” Louis hisses. Finn crawls over Harry and slumps to the door. Louis can see Harry comfort Maisie by smoothing a hand over her head and squeezing her bony shoulder.

            “What’s that all about?” Louis demands, his arms crossing tightly over his chest.

            “Everything’s all about Maisie because she’s sick. Nobody else matters.”

            “That’s not true,” Louis sighs.

            “Yes it is.”

            “Finn, she may be our priority right now but that doesn’t mean you three don’t matter to us, you know that’s not true.”

            “You didn’t come to my game on Thursday.”

            “I had to take Maisie to her doctor’s appointment. Papa was there and so was Uncle Niall.”

            “But I asked you to come.”

            “You know your papa and I go to every other appointment.”

            “But I wanted you to be at my game.”

            “I’m going to the last one. It’s the championship game; I figured you’d rather have me at that one instead.”

            “But we might not have made it to that one. And anyways, you wouldn’t be coming at all if Maisie wasn’t sick. You’re only here because Maisie’s sick.”

            “Finn,” Louis sighs again.

            “But you know it’s true. I know that you and papa have shared custody, but you want nothing to do with us,” Finn whispers and tears well in his eyes.

            “Finn, what brought this on, you seemed fine this morning,” Louis responds, trying not to cry himself.

            “It’s everything, you’re going to leave after Maisie gets better and that’s dumb because we all miss you. It’s dumb because I feel bad that I keep wishing Maisie stays sick for a while so that you’ll stay around when I know you don’t want to be here. You always leave right away and you haven’t asked me to come to London. You always come here but never for a long enough time. And it’s really mean to hope my sister stays sick so that you’ll stay around. I’m so mad at you for not being here, but I love you at the same time. I don’t want you to leave. I don’t like you guys being divorced and I don’t like Maisie being sick and I don’t like you living in London and I don’t like that X-Factor is more important to you than us. I hate that!”

            “Come here,” Louis demands and opens his arms. Finn falls into him, pressing his face into the crook of Louis’s neck, “I’ll stay, Finn, okay. I’ll stay; it was never about you guys. I love you all so much. I let my own problems get in the way and I’m sorry, okay, I’m so sorry.”

            “Will you talk to papa, too?”

            “Finn.”

            “Please, dad, I know you guys still love each other and I miss that. I even miss you guys kissing, which is super gross and disgusting.”

            “I’m not going to make promises on that Finn.”

            “You’re both just sad and it’s stupid to be sad apart. It’s stupid for papa to be sad with Nick.”

            “You like Nick.”

            “As a crazy uncle not as a step-dad.”

            “I’ll stay okay. I don’t promise I’ll sell the place in London but I’ll move as much as I can over here. Liam’s been talking about having an LA office anyways. Speaking of Uncle Liam, you know he’s going to be livid.”

            “Uncle Liam could come out here too.”

            “You know he won’t leave Emmy.”

            “She could move here too.”

            “We’ll see.”

            “So you’re staying.”

            “Yeah, bud, I’ll stay. Now, back into the room or we’ll miss the crucial first scene that sets up the rest of the movie.”

            “We’ve seen this movie a thousand times.”

            “More like a hundred but I see your point. You need to apologize to your sister for what you said too. She’ll think everything’s her fault.”

            “I know.”

            Finn slinks back into the room. Harry throws Louis a look of concern but Louis motions him off. “Everything’s fine,” he mouths at Harry who nods. Finn crawls back over Harry and plops himself next to Maisie. He puts his arm around her shoulders and whispers in her ear. She smiles at him and nods shyly. There are a lot more films to watch and the kids nod off during movies they don’t like. They rotate who sits next to whom and somehow Louis ends up pressed against a sleeping Harry. Finn grins devilishly at him and Louis groans; their son is diabolical.

            Overall, it’s a good way to end a trying week. Everyone looks better rested and Louis’s conviction to stay doesn’t wane. He’ll just have to get used to the heartache of not being married to Harry anymore. He cringes when he thinks about Finn saying that he doesn’t care. Finn knows and understands most of the reasons why they got divorced, but Louis hadn’t realized that him being away had caused his rational son to think such irrational things. He wants to throw-up.

            Once a week one of them takes a night to himself to get away from being a parent to a child with cancer. The other one stays at home and takes care of the kids. It works out well for them. They’re both happier. Well, actually Louis thinks sardonically, Harry’s happier and that annoys the shit out of Louis. Harry goes out with Nick most nights and Louis goes over to the Horan’s house and drinks and talks with Niall.

            They’ve set up a routine and it’s almost gotten to normalcy. Louis’s making snacks in the kitchen when he hears an ungodly screech from the upstairs. Maisie is the only other person home so he runs up the stairs as his heart shifts from his chest to his throat. She’s in the bathroom with a robe wrapped tightly around her, tears streaming down her face, and a huge clump of hair in her hand.

            “Shit,” Louis mumbles.

            “Bad word, daddy,” she babbles as she presses her face into his ribs.

            “It’s going to be okay.”

            “I don’t want to be bald,” she wails.

            “I know sweetheart, but we’ll go get you a pretty wig and some scarves. You like when papa wraps his hair up in scarves; he can help you.”

            “I don’t want a wig. I had to wear a wig last year for the play and it made my head itch loads.”

            “Okay, baby, we’ll do whatever you want. It’s your head, yeah?”

            “I want you to shave it off.”

            “Wow,” Louis gasps.

            “I don’t want little bald patches. Lucy at the treatment facility said that her mom just shaved it for her when it started to fall out. Will you just shave it off for me?”

            “Sure, baby, but I want to wait until your papa gets home, okay?”

            “Okay.”

            Louis hears the garage door crank open and then shut. The cacophony of excitement that follows is usually pure joy to Louis’s heart, but he’s just anxious to get Harry into the bathroom with them.

            “Harry,” he yells down the stairs, “We’ve got a situation.”

            He hears Harry’s long limbs stampede up the stairs. He’s breathing heavy and his hair is mused to one side of his head when he skids into the bathroom. Louis’s gotten Maisie to set down the clump of hair, and she’s taken to clutching Louis’s shirt instead. Harry’s eyes scan both of them and then the rest of the room. When his eyes fall on the clump of hair on the counter, his mouth turns into a shocked ‘o’. They both knew this was going to happen, but knowing and seeing are two very different things Louis reminds himself.

            “Papa, will you help me tie a scarf?” Maisie asks him, her voice getting watery again.

            “Of course, love.”

            “I’m gonna miss my hair,” she wails.

            “Hair grows back,” Harry placates, crouching down to where she’s buried her face in Louis’s jumper. He rubs her back softly.

            “I’m going to be ugly,” Maisie sobs.

            “Never baby, you’re always beautiful,” Louis whispers. Harry kisses her cheek.

            “What’s wrong?” Finn asks, toeing at the floor divider. Maisie turns her head back into Louis’s stomach; her tears wet his shirt.

            “Finn, can you go downstairs, please?” Harry asks as gently as he can, but Finn’s eyes still get damp.

            “Maisie?” Finn probes.

            “My hair,” she screeches and Louis jolts with the aggression that leaves her fragile body. He’s almost proud of her, but he’s worried that she’s hurt herself and that his sweet girl is being poisoned more than just physically with the cancer.

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Daddy’s going to have to shave it off and I don’t want him to, but I want him to,” she rambles.

            “What if he did mine first?”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, yeah. I’ll shave my head with you.”

            “Thanks.”

            “All right Finn up you go,” Louis says, grabbing a stool out of the kids’ playroom and getting the clippers. Shaving off Finn’s hair isn’t that big of a deal. They do it almost every summer anyways, not completely bald usually, but they take off enough to keep him cool so he can play footie in the summer heat. He doesn’t shave it all off and Finn orders him to get as close to his head as possible, so he does, a swell of pride in his gut. Doing Maisie’s hair is a lot harder, Harry sheared most of it off, so it looks ridiculous but there’s something about it. He knows it’s stupid to be upset over. He knows it’s superficial and dumb, but his eyes are filling with tears and Harry’s are shining too. He kisses her skull when he’s done and she giggles.

            “That tickles daddy.”

            “I’m sorry, love.”

            “It’s okay, thank you.”

            “Always, love, always.”

            Maisie goes to her room and puts on her favorite pair of pajamas. As much as she might be smiling, she’s still upset.  She’s rubbing her hand over her head when she comes into the kitchen. All three of her siblings are sitting at the breakfast bar. Lola looks at her and then at Finn, her face calculating.

            “I want no hair,” Lola screams indignantly. Maisie laughs happily and Finn snorts as he eats his apple slices and peanut butter.

            “Lola, you don’t have to,” Harry says.

            “But I wanna,” Lola demands.

            “But your hair is,” Harry begins and Louis sends him a sharp look.

            “But your hair will grow back,” Louis interjects.

            “Yeah, and I wanna be like Maisie and Finn, so get rid of my hair, daddy,” Lola instructs.

            “Me too,” Toby agrees. Harry moves to protest, but Louis shakes him off. He knows that Harry has never let anyone do more than trim Toby’s hair in the fear that the soft curls will disappear. This is important for their sibling bonding, though it’s going to be really fucking weird to have a bunch of bald children running around when they usually have massive amounts of hair.

            When they have dinner, their bald little heads mesmerize Louis. He feels a little bad that he doesn’t offer to shave his own head, but Harry doesn’t either so he thinks that’s fair. He tweets a picture of the kids on the couch reading and hash-tags it baldheads4maisie. It trends in under an hour. They’d released a statement about her condition after the paparazzi caught Harry and her leaving the hospital; they’d requested privacy and they’d received it mostly. The fans have been so supportive and sweet, and his Twitter is mostly filled with supportive mentions and prayers. He’s never been very religious, but he’s glad other people are out there talking about his little girl to the powers that be.

            While they get ready for bed, Niall sends him a picture of Brendan with a shiny baldhead and a grin larger than lips should be able to stretch. He shows it to Maisie and he gets to put her to bed with a smile on her face for the first time in quite a while.

            “Fuck,” Harry whines as they plop onto the couch. 

            “That was rough.”

            “I don’t think I could’ve done it. I’m glad Finn offered because I don’t think I could’ve.”      

            “You would’ve if it was necessary.”

            “I feel like a horrible parent.”

            “You’re the best Harry, seriously the best.”

            “I couldn’t have shaved their heads, I’m glad you were here. I didn’t want to let Lola but you were right that they needed it for sibling bonding.”

            “Thanks, but I didn’t say that.”

            “I know. I can still read you Tomlinson.”

            “I see,” Louis laughs.

            Suddenly, Harry is in his lap, grabbing onto his face and kissing roughly. He grabs arbitrarily at Harry’s shirt and wrenches it up his torso, so his hand can play with the band of Harry’s jeans. Louis doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but having an arm full of Harry is more than he could ask for. He knows that it’s not necessarily going to solve their problems. The sex had always been good between them. All he can think about is how Harry’s pressing every intimate part of their bodies together.

            “Fuck, Haz,” Louis mutters, when Harry yanks Louis’s shirt over his head.

            “Upstairs now,” Harry orders and Louis follows, albeit awkwardly as his needy hard-on changes his gait. Harry laces their fingers together and nearly pulls Louis’s arm out of his socket until he can push him onto the bed, “Lay down.”

            Louis scurries onto the bed and props himself onto his elbows to watch Harry strip off his clothes. Harry’s dick bobs when he pulls down his pants, and Louis’s leaks pre-come. It’s almost embarrassing, like most things in Louis’s life he’s on the verge of falling into the black hole of complete desolation and ridiculousness. Harry starts to kiss up Louis’s body and again Louis feels embarrassment course through him. While Harry has remained relatively fit, yes his sides are a little softer, but his sinewy muscles still flex through his skin in a beautiful dance, Louis has gotten softer all-around with age. His stomach is rounded much like it was during their X-Factor days, maybe even a little more, and he’s lost a lot of the muscle he gained during their peak. Louis tugs a little on Harry’s hair when he gets to his stomach.

            “I’ve always thought the Tommo tummy was one of your best features,” Harry hums against his navel.

            “I thought your favorite feature was my ass.”

            “It is,” Harry laughs, grabbing Louis’s ass with both hands and kissing him. His hands travel from Louis’s ass to his waist, his mouth moves from his lips to his collarbones, and his teeth join in on the fun; one of the features he’s been able to keep in his old age.

            Louis didn’t even realize that Harry’s hand had traveled back to his ass and was circling his hole, until Harry moans into his ear, “Can I?”

            “Yeah, yeah, of course,” Louis responds, the words skipping all around each other.

            Harry opens the bedside table and drops a condom on Louis’s chest as he lubes his fingers. He’s almost about to say that the condom isn’t necessary but then it stabs him in the stomach that they're not exclusive anymore. If it hadn’t been so long, he probably would’ve gone soft.

            Harry’s fingers haven’t forgotten Louis though and he’s almost immediately prodding at his prostate. When Harry’s mouth engulfs his whole cock and his finger hits Louis’s prostate again, he comes with a gurgling groan.

            “Sorry,” he mutters when Harry pulls off.

            “Good to know, I’ve still got it,” Harry cracks. Asshole. Harry licks up his come and kisses the tip of his dick. It’s almost too much and with the way Harry smirks at him, he knows it is. Then Harry’s face gets gentle, “Can I?”

            “Yeah,” Louis nods.

            Harry sheaths himself in the condom, slicks it with lube, and guides himself into Louis. Louis’s sensitive so it’s a little more painful than pleasurable, but Harry knows exactly how he likes it, long, quick strokes with nipping kisses and Louis is hardening again rather quickly. Louis shifts his hips up to meet Harry’s thrusts. They’re like a well-oiled machine; it’s like riding a bicycle. God, Louis loves clichés. Loves them almost as much as he loves lying under Harry.

            Harry comes with a grunt and kisses Louis passionately before reaching a hand between them and finishing Louis off again. They lie there for a while, breathing heavily and Louis knows he should get up, should clean himself up, and go sleep downstairs, but he doesn’t want to. Even though his body will probably ache the next morning from an activity he hasn’t done in over a year, he wants to go again or at least lie there next to Harry too sticky for comfort.

            “I’ll go,” he groans.

            “Go cleanup, then I want a cuddle,” Harry demands.

            A cuddle with Harry would’ve sounded so benign five years ago, but now it sounds like a jackpot. Louis hurries to the bathroom and finds the washcloths in the same place. It’s a stupid thing to be enthusiastic about. Wrapping himself around Harry’s back is like a salve to his broken heart. He kisses Harry’s shoulder blade and laces their legs together. Harry sighs and leans back into him.

            The next morning Harry is gone when he wakes up. However, that was never unusual. Harry likes to do yoga before the kids get up and make them some kind of breakfast. A little bit of dread gnaws at the depths of his stomach, though. He goes to the guest room to change because Finn will be curious if he’s still wearing the same clothes. The kids are still upstairs when he goes into kitchen to greet Harry. Harry’s cooking omelets and Louis grins because it’s ridiculous how spoiled his children are. He runs his fingers along the line of skin between Harry’s jeans and his risen-up tee.

            “Don’t,” Harry instructs and Louis’s hand pops off his back like a cork out of champagne.

            “But…”

            “We’ll talk later,” Harry grits out and Louis can only nod. He doesn’t trust his voice to stay neutral, to not quiver or screech.

            Later is when all the kids are at school and Maisie is with her tutor. They go into Harry’s office and Louis’s not sure he likes being on Harry’s terms. “That wasn’t a reconciliation.”

            “Why not?”

            “Because sex was never our issue.”

            “What’s the issue?”

            “You know the issue,” Harry hisses.

            “You wouldn’t talk.”

            “I don’t care if your spouse suddenly become comatose or mute, you don’t leave them after your child dies.”

            “But Toby was alive and your mum and sister were here, and you didn’t need me.”

            “Didn’t need you, are you fucking crazy Louis? Of course, I fucking needed you. Our son was stillborn. I had a premature infant and three older kids; you just left.”

            “You knew I was supposed to go. We knew it was going to be right around their birth.”

            “You don’t go gallivanting off to auditions for the X-Factor two weeks after your son dies.”

            “I asked you if you needed me to stay and you didn’t say anything. You wouldn’t speak to me. I tried everything Harry and I wanted to grieve with you but you shut me out. All I could think of was getting away and not feeling so useless.”

            “Well, I knew you blamed me and I couldn’t stand it,” Harry yells. Louis hadn’t realized they were both crying until he’s frozen in his place. He’s frozen with shock and guilt icy in his veins.

            “What?”

            “I knew it was my fault. Michelle had carried two of your children to full-term. They’d been delivered happy and healthy, but with mine,” he trails off.

            “Harry, that’s not true. They were twins and premature. It was a fluke. It had nothing to do with you. Hell, H, Maisie had a perfect birth too,” Louis reasons and even though he’s livid and upset, he wants to draw Harry into his arms.

            “And now look at her.”

            “Hey, none of that. None of this is your fault. God, H, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize.”

            “Because you didn’t wait. You didn’t stay.”

            “I didn’t realize. I didn’t realize. God, babe, I’m so sorry.”

            Harry doesn’t respond; he just drops heavily into the wing-backed armchair, burying his face in his hands. Louis is watching him and he’s all of a sudden overwhelmed by the mistakes rife in the room; his urge is to run. His feet under him want to turn and exit the room that’s hoarding the oxygen and making his lungs collapse into themselves. He wants to hide under the pillow or drive through the Hollywood Hills with the top down on the convertible until his ears and nose feel the bite of the fall wind. It takes fortitude he doesn’t know he has to sit across from Harry and wait for him to say something, to say anything. Maybe, he won’t but at least Louis will be there this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you like it! Please leave your response to this chapter, I'd love to know what you think.


	5. I Don’t Need Suggestions, On How to Start Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry agrees to give them a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is late! I underestimated the holiday weekend! I hope you all enjoy it!

            It’s not that they talk necessarily but just having it out there is a relief. It loosens the tension; it doesn’t, however, get them back together. It doesn’t fix things like Louis was desperately hoping it would. There’s a part of him that had unwavering faith in his dick’s ability to sway Harry, clearly he’d been wrong.

            In fact, it’s almost as if Harry feels guilty because Louis sees Nick around more than he thought was possible. Harry even invites him to Thanksgiving. Louis always thought it was ridiculous that Harry celebrated the holiday, but he’d gotten used to it over the years, and last year had even had to spend it with some American ex-Pats in London. It was always just a good excuse for drinking beer, watching American football, eating to excess, and being with family, except this year that “family” seems to include Niall’s family and Nick.

            Louis is happy to break bread with Niall’s family because, for all intents and purposes, they are family, but Nick is an entirely different story. He doesn’t like how comfortable Nick is getting in his spot. He helps Harry in the kitchen and grabs food for Toby; Louis’s focus being dragged away by Maisie’s need for bite-sized pieces as well. He wants to dangle in front of Nick’s face that he slept with Harry. The fact is that they still have undeniable chemistry. They still know where the other person stands in a crowded room, they still know how to maneuver around each other with grace, and they still know how to make the other’s body coil with lust. While Louis hates that Nick is there, he preens when he realizes that Harry doesn’t flinch as much when he touches him, that he can graze his fingers along Harry’s back or squeeze Harry’s bicep in thanks and he doesn’t stiffen. He also gets perverse pleasure coursing through his system when Nick doesn’t spend the night anymore.

            Louis groans when he remember the next morning is Lola’s birthday because Louis still feels like sleeping off the food coma, but there’s no way in hell that Lola’s going to let him get away with it. She confirms his suspicion when she is in Louis’s room and bouncing on his bed by six-thirty.

            “It is my day,” Lola screams and flops on top of him.

            “It’s your birthday, yes,” Louis agrees.

            “My day,” she growls, grabbing his cheeks and pushing them together.

            “She gets that from you,” Harry laughs as he leans against the doorjamb.

            “Get out of here, Styles,” he grimaces as Lola tugs on a strand of his hair. Harry laughs brightly and pushes off the wall to walk downstairs. Lola rolls out of the bed and skips into Louis’s closet. She comes out with every piece of Marvel apparel Louis owns, including the flannel pants she got him last year for Christmas.

            “Here, daddy, here’s what you should wear for my day,” Lola orders, handing him the Marvel flannel pants, a Thor t-shirt, and an Iron Man sweatshirt.

            “Baby, I can’t wear this outside,” Louis argues.

            “You can wear jeans when we go to dinner,” Lola concedes.

            “We’ll see.”

            “It’s my day,” Lola grits through her teeth.

            “I know; what are we having for breakfast?”

            “Banana’s foster French toast and bacon,” she reports.

            “Sounds great,” he says swinging her up into the air and kissing her cheek, “Happy birthday, love.”

            “Thanks, daddy.”

            “You’re welcome. Should we go wake your siblings?”

            “Yes, Finn first.”

            Lola enjoys torturing her brothers awake by pouncing onto them, much like she did with Louis and Louis has to imagine Harry too, but she wakes up Maisie gently with a kiss to the cheek.

            “Happy birthday, Lola,” Maisie murmurs when her eyes focus on her little sister.

            “Thank you,” Lola sings, “Papa’s making bananas Foster French toast.”

            “Sounds good,” Maisie responds.

            “Do you need help, Maisie?” Louis asks softly as Lola skips out of the room.

            “No, I’m okay daddy,” Maisie responds, “I feel okay today.”

            “Good, baby,” Louis murmurs and kisses her forehead as he follows Lola to the kitchen.

            “Did she pounce on everyone else?” Harry questions as Louis comes into the kitchen.

            “Everyone but Maisie.”

            “Good, good, they’ve been really good with her. Other than Finn’s little outburst, they’ve been very good with her.”

            “I’m proud of them. You did so well with them.”

            “I can’t take all the credit; you’re still their dad.”

            “I know.”

            “You have a lot of influence over them.”   

            “Did Finn tell you I was staying?”

            “He did; you made him really happy. You’re going to keep the promise, right?”

            “I keep my promises.”

            “Except for our vows,” Harry jabs flippantly.

            “Harry.”

            “Sorry, I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m still angry, Louis.”

            “We need to talk more than we did.”        

            “It’s not an easy fix Louis. It’s not like talking is going to miraculously make us married again.”

            “I want us to be better Harry. I thought I was doing what you wanted, but clearly I was wrong. I’m sorry, but I’m not the only one to blame here, and no matter what happens we’ll always be in each other’s lives.”

            “I’ll work with you,” Harry whispers as he flips the French toast.

            “Thank you.”

            Hope blooms ostentatiously in Louis’s chest, making him feel like he’s going to burst rainbows, glitter, and unicorns, which again makes him bitter that he can only think of clichés when it comes to Harry. He goes to check on the kids because there’s no way Harry will let him near a birthday breakfast. He buries his face in Toby’s neck as a grin spreads across his lips. He seems to be wearing Harry’s resolve down and it’s inanely exciting.

            Lola is their sass master and they usually make her rein it in but it’s her birthday so she’s getting away with a fair bit more than usual. Harry groans and Louis snickers when she orders a huge steak with sides Louis’s pretty sure she’s never eaten before. Finn plays along with her slyly helping her eat what she can’t and Toby has always worshipped the ground Lola walks on, so everyone is a good sport about the whole thing.  

            Dinner’s quite a spectacle but it’s mostly because Louis loves watching Lola trying to finish a meal she swore she could eat. Maisie presses into Louis’s side giggling; she’s cold and her little scarfed head presses into his ribcage as she shakes with laughter. She only eats a small portion of the gnocchi on her plate but she doesn’t run to the bathroom or fall asleep so Louis considers it a good day for all of them.

            When they get home, Liam’s lounging on the front-porch swing and Lola lets loose an eardrum-shattering howl. She flings herself into his lap and Liam nuzzles her cheek, scratching her cheek with his facial hair. Liam carries her inside as she pats his head and tells him about the huge steak that she had just eaten. Harry goes to the refrigerator in the basement and takes out the Mjölnir cake he ordered from the organic cake shop that they generally get the kids’ cakes from. Lola squeals eagerly when she sees it, Harry puts six candles into the handle, and Lola blows them out with vigor. She gets a piece that’s too big but attempts to eat it all anyways…again. Louis doesn’t think she’ll need to eat for days. Of course the night is finished with the third Thor movie, Liam whines to Lola that the Batman movies are better and she holds her hands over his mouth until he stops trying to speak while the rest of the family cackles.

            The kids fall asleep in a likely progression: Maisie, first, then Toby, and then Lola valiantly fights with Finn to be the last one awake but fails once the credits start rolling. Liam carries her upstairs to tuck her in and comes downstairs, clearly overheated when he strips off the jumper he was wearing.

            Louis sees it first and caws with laughter, “Got a new little minx in your life.”

            “No,” Liam says apprehensively; his eyebrows playing confused caterpillars on his face.

            “Well, then you’re back with Sophia and she’s forgotten how to hide a love bite because that one’s huge.”

            “No, we haven’t gotten back together.”

            “He’s been at Zayn’s,” Harry informs as he brings out a bottle of wine and three glasses.

            “None for me,” Liam says shaking his head and standing abruptly before Louis can react to Harry’s information, “I’m just going to head to bed. Jet-lag and all.”

            “Holy shit,” Louis murmurs when Harry sits down on the couch perpendicular to the large chair Louis is sitting on.

            “Come on, you had to realize that. I always thought it was one of the reasons Zayn left. He couldn’t take the pining anymore. He always thought it was the most hopeless cause ever. He thought Liam was as straight as they came, and well I never argued with him.”

            “But you knew Liam loved Zayn.”

            “Yeah, but I guess I never really thought he would date Zayn and even if he had wanted to, I didn’t want them to end up like us.”

            “It wasn’t that bad.”

            “Beards,” Harry reminds and Louis cringes, “Worst-enemies.”

            “Okay, I get your point. Why didn’t he ever tell me?”

            “’Cause he knew you’d do something about it. He was worried that you would say something ridiculous and force them into something. He didn’t want to pressure Liam with it. I think, more than anything, he was scared to be as miserable as I was.”

            “I never knew you were miserable.”

            “We both were. We had to pretend we didn’t want to spend every waking moment together. It was agonizing.”

            “I don’t know that I was miserable; I mean I had you, even if it wasn’t all the time.”

            “That was the only thing that made it bearable was that we had each other. When we came out, I don’t think I was ever been happier than that before. It was only ever surpassed by our marriage and the birth of the kids.”

            “Except the twins’.”

            “Yeah, except the twins’ or really Noah’s,” Harry comments quietly. Louis’s throat clenches around the swallow of wine and it burns because Louis doesn’t think he’s ever heard Harry say his name. They’d already had the names picked out, Noah and Tobias, when Michelle had gone into labor. Louis had been the one to tell the nurse as Harry stared blankly at the tiny body; all of their eyes filled with tears and noses leaking snot. He had signed the birth certificates and then watched the doctor sign two birth certificates and one death certificate. Harry had bathed the small body, Louis had put him into the take home outfit they’d purchased only a few days before, and they’d both held him for a few minutes. Louis’s ears had been buzzing and he’d barely registered anything until the next morning when all three kids had climbed into their bed. He’d been worried for quite a few weeks after that that Toby would die too, even when they let him go home after ten days. He’d been fragile and Louis thought he’d break him at any chance. It’s another reason that he left.

            “I can’t believe it’s been six years since Lola was born,” Louis comments, changing the subject to avoid the tears he feels burning the back of his eyes from the memories.

            “Can you believe she was our easiest baby?” Harry asks and Louis snorts in response because he really can’t. His high maintenance daughter barely brings visions of the chill infant they brought home from the hospital.

            “Do you remember that we kept getting up to check on her because she slept through the night the first week? We were fucking baffled.”

            “We’d go in there and stand over her bed and watch her little chest move up and down.”

            “Remember that Finn and Maisie slept through the night less than she did. She was always up super early but she never got up until it was morning. She’s low-maintenance in that, still is. She’s by far the best sleeper.”

            “Remember when she slept through the earthquake. Maisie and Finn were in our bed crying their little eyes out and Lola slept the whole night.”

            “For being that chill about sleep, she sure as hell is sassy as fuck.”

            “She gets that from you. There’s moments where I just want to call her little Tommo all the time.”

            “She’d love that.”

            “She would but it would make the rest of the kids act sassier and I can’t handle that.”

            “That’s true. One sass master is enough for this family.”

            “Two, two sass masters.”

            “How very dare you?” Louis hisses, appalled. He throws a pillow at Harry’s smirking face, “You know they’ve all got a little sass in them.”

            “You’re right Michelle’s pretty damn sassy.”

            “Not what I meant.”

            “I know.”

            “Would you ever think about it again?”

            “Louis,” Harry sighs and tugs his hand through his hair.

            “I just miss you, you know. I miss us. I miss our family.”

            “I just…”

            “I know you have Nick.”

            “It’s not what you think,” Harry mumbles and Louis doesn’t even register the response because he’s going into his next train of thought.

            “I didn’t fight for you, and I know how wrong that is now. It’s been three years and I still reach for you some mornings. Hell, I’m almost forty and I still wake up hard dreaming about you. About your mouth, about your hands. I won’t ever be able to love someone like I loved you, like I love you.”

            “Louis, please stop.”

            “But I need you to know these things. I need you to know them because I never said them, because I didn’t think they’d matter, I didn’t think it would change anything that you’d just fallen out of love with me. I was heartbroken and crushed and every word about you, every empty word you said to me hit me in a spot too tender to bear.”

            “You’re too late.”

            “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

            Harry pauses for a long time and Louis thinks the subject is dropped that Harry is halting the conversation completely. Harry bites his lip and stares directly at him, “I need you to woo me, like during UAN.”

            “I was nineteen.”

            “That’s what I want. I want to know you still love me like that boy did.”

            “I love you more than he even thought about loving you.”

            “It’s nonnegotiable.”

            “Will you break up with Nick?”

            “We’ll see.”

            “That’s not very fair Harry.”

            “Well, I’m going to be a little selfish, I think.”

            Louis’s adrenaline spikes because at least it’s a chance, so he agrees, “Okay.”

            Lola wakes him up the next morning but the other kids are still asleep. 

            “Hey, you want to go shopping with me,” he asks her as she burrows under his down comforter.

            “For what? I hate Home Depot and Maxfield. Home Depot smells funny and is so boring, and Papa never knows what he’s getting there so we spend the whole time walking through every aisle. Maxfield, Papa always yells at us when we try to play with the mannequins or try on clothes. He usually puts me in the stroller and I’m too big for a stroller daddy.”

            “I know, love.”

            “I’m six now.”

            “That’s way too big for a stroller, love. I wanted to go to YSL to get something for papa.”

            “Heather works there,” Lola reports excitedly, “She’s nice to us. She helped Maisie pick out scarves once. Papa likes their scarves too. He also likes necklaces and rings. We should get him a scarf and a ring.”

            Louis nods his head because while he hadn’t gone with on that particular venture, he knows Heather well from his numerous years buying gifts for Harry. He also thinks those are great gifts for Harry, except the ring might be pushing it a little too far.

            “Do you want to get scarves for your head, too?”

            “No, I like having no hair. Hayden at school made fun of me, so I punched him in the stomach when the teacher wasn’t looking.”

            “Dolores Anne,” Louis reprimands.

            “Well I didn’t get in trouble, daddy. She didn’t believe him when he told her because I’m so much smaller than him.”

            “That doesn’t mean you can punch people.”

            “He said I looked like a boy and that my sister and I couldn’t pretend like we were boys and that we looked stupid without hair and I didn’t care because I did it to help my sister feel better and I don’t like it when papa brushes my hair, so I punched him. Finn told me I did the right thing because Hayden makes fun of Maisie all the time and it’s not fair and he’s glad I did so he didn’t have to.”

            “Punching doesn’t solve our problems, Lola,” Louis reminds and makes a mental note to speak to Finn about his advice to his sister.

            “But he leaves me and Maisie alone now and I get to play on the big kids’ playground because they’re scared of me,” she smirks. He’s actually terrified of the shit the four of them get away with and what they might be capable of in the future. He’s pretty sure that Lola has politics in her future or at least a lucrative law career and he’s also proud. He knows Harry would be pissed if he knew; Harry would reprimand them both a lot more than Louis’s going to reprimand Lola.

            “You’re not going to punch anyone again. You’re going to tell papa or me and you’re going to let the adults deal with it.”         

            “Okay.”

            “Dolores, tell me that you understand.”

            “I understand.”

            “Dolores, tell me what you understand.”

            “Stop calling me that. I know that I’m supposed to tell you or papa when someone’s being a big meanie, even though punching them in the stomach works better.”

            “Dolores.”

            “Sorry, I won’t punch big meanies.”

            “All right, are you ready to go?”

            “Don’t be silly, daddy, I need to put on clothes. I’m still in jammies.”

            She runs to her room and pulls on a cardigan and jeans. She looks so much like Finn it’s almost uncanny. If it wasn’t for the slight different in the tilt of their noses, Louis wouldn’t be able to take a photo of her at this moment and tell it apart from a photo of Finn at the same age.

            He calls Heather at the YSL store because Lola isn’t the only one who loves Heather. Louis has called Heather numerous times when he’s been to LA and while she’s done numerous favors for him, he knows the commission is worth it, so he thinks about all the Christmas presents he needs to buy and it seems that every person in his life will be getting some sort of YSL accessory to make up for calling Heather at seven a.m. on a Saturday. He doesn’t want paparazzi out snapping pictures of him in YSL because he knows Harry will be keen to what they’re doing, so he writes Harry a note telling him not to worry and they head out. He stops at Starbucks on the way and gets himself a tea and a scone and Lola organic milk and banana bread. She munches happily in her booster seat and Louis cringes when he sees the crumbs go all over the backseat of his car.

            “Thank you again,” Louis praises as he walks into YSL, clenching Lola’s sticky fingers, “Do you have a bathroom where she can wash her hands?”

            “Of course,” Heather nods and Louis follows her into the storeroom and the employee restrooms. When they finally get back into the store, Heather asks, “What are you looking for today, Mr. Tomlinson?”

            “Louis, please. I’m looking for something for Harry, but something that he doesn’t already have, which I know can be quite difficult.”

            “We just got in a vintage collection. It’s rather exclusive,” Heather touts, and Louis almost rolls his eyes. He hates the word exclusive; he’s pretty sure it’s only used to make rich people feel special, but he looks at it anyways because vintage and Harry go hand-in-hand.

            “This one,” Lola says pointing to a floral-patterned scarf. It’s perfect and Louis nods to Heather. He then chooses a cluster ring he thinks Harry will like and lets Lola pick out another scarf for Maisie. He then grabs a collection of handbags for his mum and sisters for Christmas presents. He has her wrap the scarf and ring and put them into a black shopping bag. He takes the rest home to have their professional gift-wrapper do it before Christmas; it’s a little outlandish but well worth it he thinks. He thanks Heather profusely again before packing Lola into the car.

            Everyone else is eating breakfast in the kitchen when they come back and it’s Liam’s favorite American breakfast, biscuits and gravy. Liam’s grin is obvious and Harry’s not always the best at expressing his feelings with his words but he always does with his cooking.

            “I’m going out tonight,” Harry announces when it’s just the three adults left at the table.

            “Okay,” Louis responds, nodding; his eyes fixed on his plate.

            “With who?” Liam asks, a little affronted and Louis wants to shake his head to tell him not to; it’s not worth it.

            “Nick, Jeff, and Glenne.”

            “I’m not here for very long,” Liam whines.

            “You’re here to see Louis, not me.”

            “Styles, I am insulted by that.”

            “It’s the truth.”

            Most of the afternoon is spent outside playing footie. Liam’s always enjoyed kicking around the football and he’s in better shape than Louis is. Maisie sits outside on a lounger, reading a novel and playing games on her iPad. Toby’s more interested in chasing bugs than he is in passing around the football. Harry plays a few rounds and then sits with Maisie for a few more before getting ready to go to dinner with his friends.

            Louis stays in the backyard when Nick arrives and then orders a pizza for dinner that night. He sneaks the YSL bag up to Harry’s room and scrawls a quick card out because he knows that Harry has a weak spot for cards. He goes about the usual nighttime routine for the kids, but he’s desperate for Harry to come home. He plays FIFA with Finn, Liam, and Niall to distract him from his waiting. When that doesn’t distract him enough, he sends Finn to bed and tortures Liam about Zayn.

            “You and Zayn?” Louis asks incredulously and Niall smirks into his beer.

            “Get off it, mate,” Liam orders.

            “Or what?”

            “I’m not playing this game with you.”

            “Oh, I think you are or I’m going to call Zayn and see what’s going on. Going to tell him that you said that you were dating and that you love him.”

            “You wouldn’t.”

            “I would. You know I would.”

            “You’re an arsehole.”

            “So I’ve heard. So do tell.”

            “There’s nothing to tell.”

            “The love bite says otherwise, mate,” Niall prods.

            “Not you too,” Liam whines.

            “I have to say I’m curious,” Niall drawls.

            “So spit it out, Payno.”

            “There’s not much to tell. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on between us and I’d prefer you two butt out of it for the time being.”

            “But that wouldn’t be like us.”

            “But it would be the right thing to do if you want us to butt out of your relationship with Harry.”

            “Not fair.”

            “Tit for tat.”

            “Well this is not going to end well, I’ll be heading home,” Niall ventures.

            “All right, Payno, a few weeks, but I need something in a few weeks.”

            “You heard that Niall,” Liam calls to Niall who’s pulling on his trainers.

            “Yeah, you two are going to pull your heads out of each other’s business and stop being a bunch of elderly gossips.”

            “Fuck off,” they say in unison.

            “I’m going to go fuck my wife,” Niall calls pleasantly as he leaves.

            “He sucks,” Louis grouses.

            “But he doesn’t actually,” Liam jokes and they can’t help the giggle fit they fall into.

            They decided to watch another classic superhero movie and it’s quite late before it’s over. However, when Louis is ready to go to bed Harry’s still not home and he doesn’t want to be subjected to Nick and Harry’s drunk stumbling.

            It’s almost three in the morning when he’s woken by warm hands on his chest. At first he thinks it’s one of the kids, but the hands are much too big and then his next thought is Liam but that’s ridiculous. He opens his eyes to Harry only a few breaths away.

            “Thank you,” he whispers.

            “You deserve it,” Louis replies. Louis can smell the alcohol on his breath and he almost tells him to go away. He doesn’t want Harry to say anything he doesn’t mean.

            “I told Nick I was going to give you a chance,” Harry confesses as he sits on the bed and pulls off his tight jeans.

            “So he won’t be coming around anymore.”

            “We’re friends, Louis, we were never in love. In fact, he bowed out rather gracefully. It was always just a mutually beneficial relationship; he was never going to replace you.”

            Louis snorts in response, but he’s not going to start an argument with Harry as the man strips down to his briefs.

            “This isn’t because you’re drunk, Haz, is it?”

            “I don’t know, but your gift was perfect and I don’t want to sleep alone tonight, not when you’re here not wanting to sleep alone either.”

            “Harry, I’m so grateful.”

            “You’re going to have to stop doing that. I’m not doing you a favor Louis. You’re the father of my children and the love of my life, so stop praising me like I’m doing you a favor. I don’t want to be put on a pedestal. It’ll cause more issues. I want us to date, to hash out our issues, and become a family again. It’ll be hard because it’s going to be hard to trust you again, and the way for me to trust you isn’t through compliments, it’s through being there.”

            “Okay.”

            “Now, I want a cuddle. Damn, I’ve really missed being the little spoon more than you could know.”

            “Well I’ve missed being the big spoon so get in here then,” Louis orders, opening his arms and placing his palm over the butterfly on Harry’s chest when Harry presses his back to Louis’s front.

            “I heard this is called a jetpack since you’re smaller,” Harry teases.

            “I don’t rightly care. Good night, love.”

            “Good night, Lou.”

            It’s not love or sweetheart or boobear, but it is a nickname and yes Harry is drunk but it’s something. Louis holds onto these stupid little things because it’s all that he’s got left at this point. He wants to wake up and be able to change everything that had happened, to rewind and redo what he regrets. He figures that should be worth something, should be worth at least a chance of some kind.

            Louis understands the rules, though: the unspoken rules of their new relationship. They aren’t going to allow the kids to see them getting closer, just like if they were in a new relationship. They wouldn’t bring a new boyfriend into their lives and they aren’t going to let the kids know that they might be reconciling. He knows that it would crush them all beyond belief if they were to start this and then have it fail in a few months. He’s almost gleeful though and Finn at least is starting to pick up on it, starting to realize that Louis is not even close to being as dejected as he was when he arrived.

            They all move in unity. Their ability to sync their movements and schedules is so easy, even though Harry has to film a few spots on his show and Louis has to look at real estate for a new LA office, everything is just perfection. Louis couldn’t imagine anything better, except if Maisie was healthy. All the kids seem happy and Louis feels happy and Harry seems happy; Niall and Liam even comment on the happiness level at the Styles-Tomlinson household.

            Everything has gotten so much better, Maisie is feeling better and Harry’s spending an equal amount of time in Louis’s bed as he is out of it, with the new addition of kissing and rubbing off against each other that is elating Louis more than anything else, so Louis should have realized that shit was going to hit the fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Your feedback has been absolutely wonderful and I look forward to hearing from all of you again; you're awesome!!!
> 
> UPDATE 5/26: I'd like to make a clarifying statement that I don't necessarily agree with the way that they're handling their reconciliation at this point (and I felt iffy about publishing this chapter to begin with). Also, yes Harry is kind of being an asshole, but the whole time won't be a Louis-grovel fest. There are 5 more chapters left :D Thank you for the constructive criticism.
> 
> UPDATE 6/11: I promise I'm not abandoning this, but I have been out of town for work and then have a big project to complete this week that's kept me doing work all day, but my schedule will be back to normal on Monday so hopefully I can get it updated soon.


	6. I Need Someone That I’ll Look To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Louis learn something new about Maisie's diagnosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long, but I am now done with work!!! Tomorrow is my last day. I start my new job in about three weeks, so I'm hoping to finish the story and be able to post the last three chapters and epilogue within the next four weeks. I won't make promises, but that is my goal. 
> 
> Thank you for all the support through this stressful time!

            Maisie crawls into bed next to Louis one morning as he enters the world through the hazy mid-sleep. He kisses her forehead when he’s fully conscious and wraps an arm around her. She’s sleep-warm but curls into Louis’s body heat anyways. She clings to him and he waits for an explanation.

            “I’m scared,” she whispers.

            “Of what, love?” He asks, even though he knows exactly what it’s about because it’s the same reason that he drank a whole bottle of wine by himself the night before just to fall asleep and why Harry’s back is not pressed along his front.

            “Of my check-up.”

            “It’s all right that you’re scared.”

            “Are you scared?”

            “I want you to get better more than anything, so I guess I’m a little nervous to be honest with you, love.”

            “It’s okay we can be scared together; papa will look out for us.”

            “I’m sure he will.”

            “I don’t want to keep crying.”         

            “Oh baby, I don’t want that either.”

            “I miss doing regular kids stuff. It’s almost Christmas and I won’t be able to go skiing or snowboarding because I can barely walk. I love skiing.”

            “Honey, there’s no snow.”

            “But we always go to Jackson Hole for part of winter break and I can’t ski this year.”

            “I think we’re staying here this year.”

            “But Finn’s going to be so mad. I don’t want him to be mad at me.”

            “He won’t be; he gets it.”

            “I feel like everyone is going to hate me and I don’t want people to be mad at me.”

            “Nobody hates you and if they do, they’re horribly awful human beings and they don’t even understand what they’re missing because you, my daughter, are wonderful.”

            “Thanks daddy. Are you going with me and papa to my appointment?”

            “I will if you want,” he promises, even though he hadn’t planned on it, and she nods her head adamantly. He was going to stay home with Toby, but he thinks he can probably get one of their usual babysitters over to watch him. He holds her extra long and tight before taking them both downstairs for breakfast.

            “Good morning, papa,” Maisie hugs Harry’s waist as he makes breakfast burritos that smell delicious but look suspiciously healthy.

            “Good morning, love,” Harry squeezes her hands that are still planted on his waist with a calm lilt to his voice, but he shoots Louis a nervous look. Louis shrugs because all the kids are staring at them interact and he doesn’t want to let anything on. It’s gotten almost back to normal in their house and he wants to let things be. He takes the kids to school because Maisie has moved from clinging to him to adhering to Harry’s side and he doesn’t want to pull them apart. Harry whispers gently to her as they leave and she isn’t smiling but the panic seems to have dissipated from her glossy green eyes.

            Louis says cursory good-byes to Finn and Lola, and Finn gives him a concerned look. He tries his best to play it off with a grin and a cross of his eyes. It seems to work because Finn looks at him like he’s lost his mind but his shoulders move away from his ears. Lola barely gives him a second glance as she skips into the school. He drops Toby at preschool and he’s too dependent. Louis can’t imagine that this is what he’s like for Harry, which is compounded by the fact that everyone is looking at Toby with concern. He kisses him and promises him he’ll see him in the afternoon.

            When Louis gets back to the house, Harry is holding Maisie as she watches a morning game show. She’s cradled along Harry’s long legs and into his chest. She’s staring at the television almost like she’s interested, but her eyes are distant, glassy, and worried. She doesn’t deserve this Louis ruminates irritably. He wants to shake something, blame something, punch something for letting these horrible circumstances happen to her.

            “Beth is going to pick Toby up from preschool,” Louis informs Harry softly, “So I can go to the appointment with you and Maisie.”

            “Why?”

            “She asked me to.”

            “But we agreed…”

            “There’s always exceptions to the rules, Harry, I couldn’t say no to her.”

            “Okay,” Harry concedes, and Louis deflates because he was ready to bluster up a storm; Harry doesn’t usually give in this easily when it comes to the kids’ schedules. He must feel the same weight.

            The appointment comes with a heavy foreboding feeling, but that’s not news. Louis never likes to walk into the sterility of the office and face a doctor who never seems to have good news for them. Maisie clings to Harry’s side; her fragile fingers digging into him like sutures. Louis runs his hand along her hairless skull and then her delicate back to try to infuse her with some strength.

            When they take her away for her usual round of tests, Louis wants to push them all aside and scream that they can’t keep doing this to her. It’s ridiculous; he knows they don’t want to hurt her, they don’t want her to be sick. He bites the inside of his cheek instead.

            While she gets another PET scan, Harry weaves his fingers between Louis’s. Louis kisses the cross on Harry’s hand and a small smile tugs on Harry’s thin, crimson-colored lips. He keeps doing it until Harry forces their interlaced hands down next to his hip insistently. When the doctor comes out, Louis’s bones creak with the pressure Harry puts on them. The doctor’s face is unreadable, so they follow him into his office in the hopes that he will tell them what is happening. They sit down and a nurse brings Maisie into the room a few minutes later. She climbs into Louis’s lap and he runs a hand down her spine. She’s chilled now and it reinforces the antiseptic-ness of the office. She nuzzles under his chin, she stuffs her arms down the sleeve of his jacket to try to leech more of his body heat, and he kisses the freckle on top of her skull.

            “We were looking at the progress of her lymphoma today, and if everything was going well, we would hopefully have seen a drastic decrease in the number of the cancer cells. Unfortunately, that’s not what we’re seeing with Maisie’s treatment. Her PET scans haven’t changed much over the last few months and while she’s lucky it hasn’t spread, we still need to start talking about alternatives.”

            “What are our options?” Harry grits out of his teeth.

            “Well, we could go over a comprehensive list of different treatments, but the two most viable options are changing the type of chemicals in her chemotherapy or doing stem cell replacement therapy.”

            “Which one would be more effective?” Louis questions, and he can tell Harry’s shocked and shutting down. Louis’s body is also rebelling the information. His fight or flight instincts have always wrecked havoc on him, but this is his chance to take control and prove that he’s never going to leave again.

            “The stem cell replacement therapy would probably work the best but finding a match may take time.”

            “We have her cord blood,” Harry interjects.

            “That will be helpful, any siblings?”

            “Two, at least, two that have cord blood saved. She only has one living full-blooded sibling. She has two half siblings that also have cord blood banked,” Louis lists as Harry watches him with relief. Months ago mentioning Noah would’ve caused uproar and an emotional rollercoaster; now, the pang is consistent and not out of control, it’s manageable now. While Louis never considered Toby or Noah’s cord blood, stem cell therapy may have been something that he looked into when he first heard the diagnosis. He doesn’t always sleep well in a bed he’s never called his own so he researches. Louis, now that his hackles aren’t drawing him out the door, itches to pull Harry to his side, to hold on to both of them to keep these barbing words from piercing their tender skin. He wants to explain the treatment, its effects, and its results; he wants to tell them all about his research. He’s only ever hoped to do what’s best for them.

            “That should be favorable for her recovery.”

            “We can have it couriered over here as soon as possible,” Harry informs.

            “Great, lets do just hers for now,” the doctor suggests, “We will do some intensive conditioning here and once she’s ready we’ll immediately begin the procedure.”

            “What will that pertain?” Harry asks.

            “I’m going to suggest she stay here,” the doctor advises, and that’s when Louis starts to feel tears on his neck and rabbit-sized exhalations. “The treatment will be intensive and you have three other children who are going to school and regularly coming into contact with germs. They could easily infect her with just a little cold and unfortunately, that could be fatal. We can make her extremely comfortable here.”

            “Could we come and visit?” Louis asks as he feels Maisie’s nails dig into the back of his neck.

            “We’d want to keep the guest numbers as low as possible and require a mask and disinfection.”

            “Just Harry and I, maybe some close adult family members,” Louis assures, “And we’ll, of course, do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

            “Conditioning will probably take one to two weeks, the transplant will only last one day, and then recovery will take another one to two weeks.”

            “Christmas?” Maisie whimpers. Louis holds her a little closer and kisses her forehead.

            “The probability is not favorable but it’s not impossible,” the doctor admits, while Louis doesn’t like the way that the exhalations turn to snuffles, he appreciates the doctor’s honesty.

            “Can we check her in tomorrow instead of today?”

            “Absolutely, I think a night at home will do her some good.”

            Louis takes Maisie out to the car while Harry finishes up the smaller details with the doctor and the hospital. He crawls into the backseat with her and holds her on his lap. He doesn’t want to let her go; she keeps a tight grip in his sweater, her knuckles the color of delicate porcelain.

            “I’m so sorry, baby.”

            “I don’t want to be alone, daddy.”

            “I know, love, I know. I don’t want you to be alone either, but I want you to get better.”

            “I’m never going to get better.”

            “Hey, hey, now, don’t you dare say that about my sweet girl. I need both my baby girls around.”

            “Daddy, I’m so scared.”

            “I know. I am too, but we’re going to fight because we’re stronger than this fucking cancer.”

            “Papa would put you into timeout for saying a bad word.”

            “I have no doubt you’re correct, but in this case, I think it was needed and papa would’ve understood.”

            “Papa would’ve understood what?” Harry asks as he climbs into the driver’s seat, “Buckle up, loves.”

            Louis slides Maisie into her seat and she pulls the blanket around her shoulders as Louis pulls the seatbelt across her body. He clicks his own and puts his arm on the back of her seat, “Nothing you need to worry about, Harold.”

            “Yeah,” Maisie agrees, pressing her face into Louis’s stomach.

            “All right,” he gives in easily, but Louis can tell he’s still curious by the glance Harry shoots him in the rearview mirror.

            “Can we have chicken potpie and peach cobbler for dinner?”

            “Of course, love.”

            “Can I sleep with you guys tonight?”

            “We don’t sleep together,” Louis reminds her tenderly.

            “Please?” She pleads. Louis looks up and his eyes meet Harry’s in the rearview mirror.

            “Of course, love,” Harry agrees easily.

            “Family movie night?”

            “No doubt,” Louis assures.

            “I need to take a nap when we get home,” she yawns.

            “We’ll get everything else ready for the best Maisie night ever.”

            When they get home, Louis goes to take a nap with Maisie, while Harry runs to the store for the ingredients. Beth brings Toby home and he smashes Louis into the middle of Maisie’s bed as he sprawls down to take a nap. He wonders how Toby is going to react when he doesn’t have his napping buddy anymore. It’s a small consolation prize: the way their body heat melds together; two sleep warm kids lull Louis into a comfortable sleep, not the sleep haze he’s gotten used to, a consolation for the overwhelming feeling that terrifies him.

            He doesn’t wake up until Finn and Lola climb into the bed as well. Finn’s facial contortions attempt to mask his gloominess and Louis knows Harry has told them, especially when Lola offers Maisie her lovey. Maisie shakes her head violently when Lola shoves it into her hands. Maisie’s shaking her head, like people do when he offers them a generous check, like she’s undeserving of such a gift.

            “Take it,” Lola orders, her eyes narrowing and Louis is slightly frighten she might swing if Maisie refuses.

            “Lola, no,” Maisie argues, “You love Lambie.”

            “I’m a big girl,” Lola informs with bravado, though Louis can see the way her lip quivers when Maisie touches the raggedy, graying lamb blanket, “Take it.”

            “Thanks,” Maisie responds as she cuddles Lambie like a baby, “I’ll take good care of her.”

            “Okay,” Lola acknowledges before pressing her face into Louis’s chest and trying not to shake as she cries. Maisie looks up at Louis with shock and regret, and Louis can see that she itches to speak. He wants to shake her off, but she doesn’t seem to understand the message. He wishes he could get her another Lambie and they both could have one. Louis knows that there’s another Lambie downstairs in the laundry room; they bought five loveys for each kid, but he doesn’t think it will have the same affect if she realizes. A new Lambie will just be an imposter. It will take away the meaning.

            “It’s okay, Lola, you can have Lambie back. I’ll be okay without her.”

            “No,” Lola screeches, “You have Lambie; she’ll take care of you.”

            Lola storms out of the room and they listen to her stomp to her bedroom. The noise of the door slamming makes all four of them jump a little, even if they’re completely expecting it. Maisie burst into tears then and the stormy look on Finn’s face is at the forefront now. He pops off the bed in a huff and Louis makes an abortive noise, but Finn doesn’t even glance back. Louis has to pop up, which is hard on his aging joints, to get to Finn before he gets to Lola.

            “Finn,” Louis warns, reaching out for his son’s arm.

            “She’s such a bitch,” Finn mumbles and Louis thinks it’d be safe to say that Finn didn’t intend for Louis to hear that. He wants to pop him in the mouth, like Mark would’ve done to him, but he also knows that he’ll face Harry’s wrath if he does. Plus, getting popped in the mouth doesn’t seem to have helped him much; he still runs his mouth far too often.

            “She’s five, Finnian. And you know you’re not supposed to use that kind of language. I’m disappointed and I know your papa will be disappointed too when I tell him. I’ll have to discuss the punishment with him.”

            Finn just rants past the mention of a punishment like it doesn’t even faze him, which is also a little worrying, “She’s six actually and Maisie’s going to the hospital and Lola made her cry.”

            “I know you want to protect your little sister but you have to remember that Lola is also your little sister. She’s scared and sad, and she wanted to help. I know that Lola is feisty but she also needs her big brother’s protection, especially now. You two have always been two peas in a pod and if you’re mad at her that will destroy her, you’ve got to know that.”

            “I’m sorry,” Finn apologizes, but has to add, “I’m just mad Maisie has to go to the hospital and I don’t understand why I can’t go visit her; it’s not fair.” Louis hates exceptions to apologies; Finn knows that but doesn’t seem to care.

            “I don’t want the excuse, buddy,” he reminds sternly, but adds softly, “You can’t come because you’re not an adult.”

            “I don’t even get sick.”

            “I know, love, but you carry around more germs than an adult and we want to keep her safe.”

            “I know, but it’s not fair. I love her.”

            “I understand you don’t want her to be away. Trust me, I know what it’s like but we want her better, yeah?”

            “Yeah, it’s just scary.”

            “I know. I’ve got to get Lola. Go back to Maisie’s room.”

            “No, I’ll get Lola. I’m sorry that I called her a name.”

            “Be nice to her.”

            “I will, promise.”

            “All right.”

            The rest of the night goes smoothly, even when all six of them are crammed onto the master bedroom bed and nobody leaves when the last movie’s credits finish, mostly because they’re all asleep. Toby falls asleep sprawled on Harry’s chest. Lola and Finn lie next to Maisie, and Harry and Louis flank them. It’s a tight squeeze and Louis hopes none of them have a nightmare because they all might end up with a black eye or bruised ribs. Or they could all roll over and he would fall out, then there would only be five in the bed and way more room.

            It’s hard to get the other kids to go to school the next day. They’re frustrating the hell out of Harry, but Louis can see what they’re doing. They seem to be under the delusional impression that if they don’t go to school then Harry and Louis can’t go about their day, which means Maisie won’t have to go to the hospital. It would be kind of endearing if it weren’t so fucking exasperating. Well, at least the sentiment is endearing, Louis reminds himself.

            Louis doesn’t even want to go; he knows he’ll cry when he sees her put into that hospital bed. No parent wants to see their child in a hospital bed; Harry and Louis are no exceptions to that rule. Maisie puts on a brave face when they get there though, which helps, and she listens intently as Harry explains to her and her nurse where everything is. The vivid sign to Louis that she’s more terrified than she lets on is the way that she clutches Lambie under her arm. He’s proud of her and Lola; he’s proud of all of them really. Louis kisses her head as he leaves her and Harry together for Harry’s shift. While they want to be with her at all times, they also realize that it will take a toll on their other children so they’ve devised a schedule that they will each spend a night with her twice a week and spend the other three together at home. It’s like a more advanced schedule than the one they were already executing. Harry’s going to spend the day and night with her and Louis will relieve him after all the other kids are at school in the morning.

            He calls his mom because, well, he’s always been a momma’s boy and she needs to know what’s going on, has been begging him to tell her more for weeks now. He doesn’t think she’s realized how bad it’s gotten until he can’t hold the sobs in anymore and wails, again, over the phone.

            It’s rather somber at dinner that night, even though Louis ordered pizza, which is usually a special treat for the kids. His jaunty sprite curls into his lap the second he sits on the sofa after dinner while Finn builds a LEGO metropolis with Toby. Lola plays with the drawstrings on his hoodie, not saying anything; her icy blue eyes dulled by the tears and sorrow welled in them.

            “What did you do at school today?”

            “Reading, math, music, P.E. lunch, recess, science, social studies, art, Spanish.”

            While it’s a specific list (and not the “Nothing,” he got from Finn), it’s nothing compared to the narrative essay she usually explicates on about for at least fifteen minutes everyday.

            “Anything fun?”

            “No.”

            “No?”

            “I don’t want to have fun.”

            “Baby, that’s not the way to go.”

            “You can’t make me have fun.”

            “Oh?” He questions and jabs his fingers into her sides.

            “Not fair,” she screeches as she pulls away from his vexing fingers. He laughs along with her and he realizes that he can’t really comment on not having fun because he can’t be sure of the last time he laughed either.

            Louis tries to make it less melancholy by playing rousing games of hide-and-seek and freeze-dance around the living room to Disney tunes. They Face-time Harry and Maisie before bed; Harry tells them all a familiar story, “Princess Brigid and Niall the Frog,” which Louis likes to secretly call “Kocked Up.” The kids all giggle when Harry drawls on about how Princess Brigid almost refused to kiss the frog even when she knew he was secretly a prince because she was just that stubborn.

            After the kids are in bed, or at least in their rooms, Louis calls Harry to check-in on her first night. Harry’s voice is a whisper, which means Maisie must be asleep; it also means that Louis can ask, “How are you holding up?”

            “I’m fine,” sighs Harry, and his voice is far starker than it was when he was talking to their children. It sends a dense glacial feeling through Louis’s veins.

            They pass each other like planets circling the sun; they rarely see each other and they never touch. Harry doesn’t touch him or kiss him; in fact, he recoils when they brush palms one morning, like an explosion is waiting to happen. It’s a complete deterioration of the reverse Jenga tower they were creating, and Louis wants to make these weeks about their four kids but he can’t help feeling petulant.

            Both of their mums fly out and it relieves some of the worry that their other kids are being neglected, but it doesn’t help the strain on their barely-breathing-in-the-first-place relationship. His mum blames Harry for the divorce and Anne blames him for the divorce, and even though, they once liked each other they are incredibly protective of their children so there’s an underlying feeling of slight hostility. His mum notices the strain between him and Harry, and she mentions it one night while Anne and Harry are visiting Maisie.

            “You’re sad, love,” she states.

            “Don’t have much to be happy about, do I?”

            “But it’s different than that. It’s like back when you two were getting divorced. Your aura is frustrated and overwhelmingly miserable. It’s not the tad bit that always emanated from you after the divorce; it’s heightened.”

            “Mum, I love you, but stop the BS. If my aura says I’m sad, it’s because of Maisie.”

            “Don’t swear at your mum.”

            “I didn’t,” he smirks and she cuffs his ears.

            “Impudent.”

            “I try,” he laughs.

            “It’ll be okay, baby, he still loves you I can tell.”

            “You might want to get your aura detector checked at the closest maintenance facility because it’s broken.”

            “Quite the jokester you are.”

            “Always.”

            He wants to yell at Harry or leave, but he knows both will only make it worse and one will prove Harry right and him wrong. Though Harry is proving himself wrong by closing off just like he said he wouldn’t do anymore.

            After less than a week, Louis can’t take it anymore and on one of Harry’s nights at the hospital, he sneaks over to Niall’s to hopefully get away from it, from everything, for a while. He hadn’t asked, but Niall has some grade-A shit for them. They vaporize it because even though he used to think it was kind of the punkass way to partake in Mary Jane, he now knows it gets him high the fastest. He forgets about being a dad and they reminisce about touring, about the something that he never thought he would consider the simpler time in his life. He misses it and Niall does too, and it’s been twenty years since they got together. If things were different, they might’ve toured this year.

            He leaves when Brigid, in a nightshirt, sends him death glares when he cracks Niall up so much that he wakes Shane up with his cackling. She’s livid and hisses at them, “I’ll skin both of you alive with my bare hands and giggle the whole fucking time for waking up the baby who now thinks it’s morning time because daddy’s making tons of noise. And you’re fucking smoking, fucking cherry on the immature sundae. Cheers.”

            “Shhhh, love, the babe’s asleep,” Niall stage-whispers.

            “I’ll kill you,” Brigid growls.

            “And that’s my cue,” Louis waves as he slips on his shoes and heads for the door.

            “You’re lucky I like your kids so much; otherwise, you’d be a dead doornail,” she yells after him.

            “You’re right, I am a lucky bastard.”

            He thinks about calling a service, but the walk isn’t really far so he decides to risk it. He hums some old tunes from The Script as he walks. He goes in through the garage because it has a fingerprint scanner and he left his keys at Brigid and Niall’s. He’s expecting the house to be quiet, so he’s a little dumbfounded to see Harry rustling through the cabinets and slamming things onto the counter, rough enough to make Louis flinch.

            “Whatcha doing, Haz?”

            “Lou,” Harry croaks, and drops the metal mixing bowl on the counter. It clangs like a cymbal but Louis can’t take his eyes away from Harry’s red-rimmed ones. The look is enough to send a sharp pang of clarity into Louis’s muddled head. The only action he can think to do is to reach for Harry and for the first time, in what feels like a lifetime, Harry comes to him without hesitation. He drapes himself over Louis and buries his face into Louis’s neck.

            “I thought you’d left.”

            “I went to Niall’s for a little relaxation. Our mums are here, didn’t think it was a big deal.”

            “No, Louis, I’d thought you’d left like last time.”

            Louis’s affronted but he can’t really blame him, “No, love, I promised I wouldn’t and I won’t. I’m here for the long haul; I just wish you’d open up to me, but whether you want to let me in or not, I’ll be here for our kids.”

            “I’m sorry,” Harry mouths against his neck.

            “It’s okay, baby.”

            “It’s not, you just feel guilty and are high.”

            Louis turns a little sheepish at that; he’d hoped that Harry wouldn’t notice the soft earthy smell radiating from his clothing and hair, “I’ll be sober in the morning to go see Maisie, I promise.”

            “I know, you wouldn’t miss time with her.”

            “Of course not.”

            “Sleep with me tonight.”

            “Harry,” Louis whines because there’s nothing he wants more, but he wants this decision to come during a less amped-up moment. He knows that a few years ago Harry probably would’ve made him sleep on the couch for sneaking out to get high.

            “It’s why I came home, Lou, needed to feel you against me, needed your warmth.”

            “But you haven’t even spoken to me in the last week and I just left my responsibilities to get high.”

            “I know, and I know that’s wrong, but your presence in my bed has always made me sleep better, always made me happier, always made me feel like I could do anything, face anything.”

            “But we’re divorced.”

            “But I never stopped feeling that when we slept together, we just stopped sleeping together.”

            It’s like their bodies always knew unconsciously that they were soul mates, even if they weren’t always prepared to listen to the messages their brains were trying to send with the endorphins and serotonin. They undress to their boxer-briefs, press their skin together, and tangle their legs. Louis’s always liked being the big spoon but sleeping like this is definitely his favorite position. At first, he’d hated it, he’d felt vulnerable, but as time went on, he learned that it was their way of sharing what they couldn’t always share out loud because of their own hang-ups or in public because of their oppressive management team. It was like their combined auras pushed away all the negativity in their lives. His mother would be proud, which is why he’ll never tell her; he doesn’t want her head to get too big, thinking that she might have influenced Louis with her mumbo-jumbo talk about auras and energies in the world. He wonders if his aura is tainted green because of the weed and Harry glares at him slightly when his head bounces on Louis’s giggle at his own joke. The sleep is peaceful and Louis doesn’t wake up on the other side of the bed or on the floor, like he has the last few nights in his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was worth the wait and please leave feedback, thanks!


	7. To Give Me Comfort and Love Me Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally apologizes and it's a new start for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely reviews; I hope this is what you were all looking for on Harry's end.

            Louis wakes up to Harry brushing his fringe out of his face. He attempts to smile at him, but it probably looks more like a grimace as his lips stick together as he tries to turn them upwards. The contorted expression doesn’t seem to deter Harry and he kisses the bridge of Louis’s nose. Louis reaches for Harry’s hip and draws him closer so he can press a kiss to the sensitive spot on the underside of Harry’s jaw. Harry pushes Louis onto his back and straddles his hips; he’s moving much further and faster than Louis expected him to. Harry pushes his hands into Louis’s hair and adorns Louis’s face with whisper-light, affectionate kisses. Louis remembers this and has missed it beyond reason; as much as he’d missed the sex, he’d been able to replace it to the extent that he’d been able to fill some kind of physical need, but he’d never been able to find the intimacy that he’d had almost immediately with Harry. The intimacy that’s larger than life, that always used to get them in trouble, and that Louis’s almost fearful of now.

            “We need to talk,” Louis murmurs against the shell of Harry’s ear as he sucks a bruise into Louis’s neck. Harry sits up and looks down at him with confusion wrinkling his brows. Louis threads his fingers through Harry’s where they rest on Harry’s thighs because he sees a little bit of the past’s vulnerable Harry who needed constant reassurance after Louis spent the day rejecting his public displays of affection and adamantly denying their relationship. It might also be reassurance for him. He doesn’t want the intimacy to fade like a supernova.

            “Never known you to reject sexual advances,” Harry teases, catching Louis’s lip with his teeth playfully.

            “We’re going in circles, babe.”

            “Keep going in circles.”

            Harry’s not taking him seriously and it just boils over, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

            “Maybe I don’t want to talk,” Harry sighs, tugging away from the clasp of Louis’s hands and flinging his leg over Louis’s hips to get off the bed.

            “And I’m the fucking immature one?”

            “What is there to talk about?”

            “Our dead kid, our dying kid, the fact that you won’t talk to me about anything that upsets you.”

            “So you can leave?”

            “That’s getting really fucking old really fucking fast, Harold.”

            “But you’ve done it before.”

            “It was a huge cock-up. How many bloody fucking times do I have to say it was a mistake? It was the worst fucking mistake of my life. Is that what you want to hear? I’m fucking sorry. Okay? Is that enough for you? I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. What more do you want me to say? I’ve proven to you that I’m not going anywhere, but you prove time and time again that you haven’t gotten past shutting down at every single opportunity so who’s the one trying to make this not work. I’m not going to do this with you, Harry. I love you, I really truly do, but I’m not going to fucking do this with you. I’ll stay and help with the kids that won’t change, but we’re done,” Louis pauses and shakes his fringe out, “I guess.” He couldn’t keep it with ‘we’re done’ as angry as he is. He won’t ever be able to admit that it’s finitely over between them.

            “Where are you going?”

            “I’ve got to get the kids to school; it’s the last day before winter break,” Louis tells him as he pulls on his clothes from the night before, “And if you say anything about leaving, I might punch you, squarely, in the fucking jaw, you dickhead.” He stalks towards the door; his whole body strung as tightly as climbing ropes.

            “Wait, Louis,” Harry calls and Louis doesn’t turn around because his tone doesn’t sound like he’s conceding. It just sounds like he wants to lecture Louis and Louis doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control his emotions or reactions, “Maisie’s procedure is today.”

            “I know I haven’t forgotten. Me mum is going to pick Toby up from preschool and your mum is going to get Finn and Lola after school. They’ve got some stuff planned to occupy them with while we’re gone. Before I went to Niall’s last night, I talked to Finn about how we wanted him to help with his siblings tonight.”

            “I don’t want you driving them to school after getting high.”

            “Oi, fuck off, Harry, seriously. You’re just being a wanker now. You know I’m fine.”

            “I’ll take them.”

            “No, you fucking won’t. Go see Maisie; she’s probably worried that you weren’t there when she woke up,” Louis knows it’s a low blow that it’ll hit Harry exactly where it hurts, but it’s kind of fulfilling to the horrible sadistic part of him that’s so angry with Harry.

            He walks out of the master bedroom to quickly change in his room and then get the kids ready for school. Finn’s written Maisie a letter and he makes Louis promise not to read it. Louis tells him not to worry, but Finn just scoffs. Louis hugs all three of them extra hard when he drops them off. Finn gives him an extra hug for Maisie and he’s thankful they did something right with him, even if he might have Louis’s temper, he also has Louis’s protective big brother side.

            Maisie’s wearing Harry’s favorite head scarf, Louis’s footie sweater, Finn’s footie rip-away pants, Toby’s favorite scarf, and, of course, Lola’s Lambie is tucked into her side. It was Harry’s idea for her to have something from each of them, and Maisie is as sentimental as her papa so she loved the idea. She attempts to smile at Louis when he comes in, but there’s a deep weariness to every line of her body. Louis wants to elicit authentic delight because his mum was always adamant that laughter could cure many ailments.

            “Love the outfit, baby,” He comments, and he gets a genuine smile this time.

            “It’s YSL,” she responds.

            Louis snorts, “Did Lola sneak into this room and I didn’t see her? I swore I dropped her off at school.”

            “I can be funny too, dad,” she jokes; her smile grows bigger and Louis’s got to admit that he’s kind of proud of himself for extracting a sincere smile. He sits down next to her bed and she reaches out a hand for him.  Her delicate hand has an IV taped to it and Louis is almost scared to touch her. He swallows his fear of hurting her because he knows the rejection will hurt her more; he cradles her small hand in his palms. Harry sits on the other side of her bed; her other hand in his large ones. His eyes want to crinkle with a smile at Harry who looks despondent, but Louis thinks his effort will be seen as mockery.  

            Now that he’s settling into the room, the mask on his face is starting to itch. He hates wearing them, but they’d decided that the guests would wear them instead of Maisie who should be as comfortable as possible. It doesn’t mean though that he doesn’t want to pull them off whenever they’re on his face. It’s suffocating and it reminds him that he needs to brush his teeth better. He goes to adjust it and Harry glares at him, so he tries not to touch it again. He wants to press his lips to her forehead. He wants to be able to stick his tongue out at her when he sees the water pool on her eyes’ bottom lids. He just wants her out of here to be honest. He hands her the letter and her lips turn up more than Louis managed to get them to turn up.

            “Tell them thank you,” she whispers.  

            The doctor walks into the room and interrupts Louis’s response. Maisie grips Louis’s pinky finger when two nurses follow him. They set her up and promise her the procedure won’t hurt, which is true but Louis knows the side effects are going to last days if not weeks and are going to be agonizing. After all, her cells are going to be trying to engraft and create red blood cells; her body will be working overtime. He saw the way Harry’s throat had bobbed violently when the doctor had described it to them a few days ago.

            They watch one of Maisie’s favorite movies and nurses keep coming in and out of the room to check on the progress. About half way through Maisie complains of a headache and they shut off all the lights in the room and sit in silence. Louis gently runs his hand over her brow when she clenches her eyes shut. Harry gets her a damp towel to cover her eyes, and she quietly sits on the bed biting her lips and clenching her fists.

            “Sing to me, please,” Maisie asks.

            “What do you want us to sing, love?” Louis questions.

            “‘Happily’.”

            They sing a majority of their discography, well at least the songs that are nine-year-old appropriate, and some of the nurses, male and female, linger longer in the room because it’s not often that you get to hear two members of the most famous boy band singing their greatest hits.

            The doctor comes in after the procedure is over and explains what will happen in the next few weeks. He explains the side effects that may happen and makes sure that Maisie knows where the call button is. Maisie nods when he asks her questions and Louis wants to yell that she’s too little for all of this, but he also knows that sometimes him and Harry aren’t here to protect her. It makes him a little nauseous to realize that while they were trying to think of their other children that they left Maisie alone. He can feel the itch in the back of his eye and the roll of his stomach and he pushes it down when Harry looks at him expectantly.

            “I’ve got to get home,” Harry declares, “Finn is probably worried sick.”

            “Tell them I love them,” Louis utters.

            “Me too, tell them I love them too,” Maisie adds.

            “I will, bye, love,” Harry attempts to kiss her head but the mask gets in the way and she lets out a breathy giggle.

            They bring Maisie some easily digestible foods, including a banana, applesauce, and rice for dinner. When she’s done eating, the nurses come in and Louis takes the opportunity to go eat. He walks to the Wendy’s that’s a few blocks away. The temperature is beginning to dip lower than just light jacket weather. The breeze nips at his nose and ears and he can pretend that the wind is the reason the tears cling to his eyelashes. He calls his mum to check on the kids as he munches on French fries dipped in a Frostie.

            “Hello, baby boy.”

            “Hi, mum.”

            “How’s my darling grandbaby?”

            “She’s…she’s…I don’t know.”

            “I know, baby.”

            “I want to say she’s fine but I know she’s not. I know she still has so much further to go and I’m trying to be strong for her but I don’t know, mum, I don’t know.”

            “Just go be with her, love. And know that this is hard on everyone. Anne sent Harry upstairs because he couldn’t stop crying. You’re not weak. I know that’s what you’re worried about, love, but it’s not true. You’ve had so much go the wrong way on you, but you’ve also been so lucky. I think that’s what makes it the hardest on you. You think that you shouldn’t be upset or sad because you’ve been so lucky in your life. Your pain isn’t any less valid because you’ve been lucky, baby.”

            “Thanks, mum. I’ll try to remember that. Are the other kids all right?”

            “The problem with them being yours and Harry’s children is that they’re too empathetic and too aware of what’s going on. Anne and I tried to get their minds off of it, but they didn’t seem to want to. Finn and Lola are putting on a good show of being happy; it reminds me so much of you. Lola’s been extra-cuddly though. Toby has been clinging to Finn since he got home from school; Finn seems to have convinced him to play a little. They’ll be all right.”

            “They always are,” Louis finishes for her.

            Maisie is almost asleep when he arrives back to her room. He changes into the pajamas he brought along and makes up the chair-bed and wedges it next to Maisie’s. He tells her stories about touring and she giggles at their antics. She falls asleep early with the TV on; Louis flips to a sports channel and lets the commentators lull him into the tiredness that was penetrating his bones. When he flips off the TV, he knows that his other kids probably haven’t even gone to bed yet because it’s the weekend, but the exhaustion weighs on him as he curls up onto the hard bed that’s usually a chair.

            “Daddy?” Maisie sobs in the middle of the night.

            Louis’s always had a rough time coming out of sleep quickly, even after having infants in his room, but this cry jars him. His heart throws blood around his body and he can feel it surging in his throat, ears, and head, “What’s wrong?”

            “I really don’t feel good. My stomach feels really bad. I’m sorry I woke you up but it hurts a lot daddy,” Maisie moans.

            “Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay; I’m going to go get a nurse.”

            “Hurry, daddy, please, hurry,” Maisie begs and the sorrow puts his heart in a vice. He doesn’t even think to push the button he just goes into the hallway and waves her nurse, Mark, over.

            “What’s wrong?” Mark asks her as he checks her vitals.

            “My stomach really hurts. It’s cramping a lot and I feel really cold,” Maisie informs him, and Louis really looks at her this time as she shakes slightly under the covers.

            “You have a little bit of a fever. It’s probably from the stem cell preservatives. Do you want to try going to the bathroom?”

            “Yes.”

            Louis helps carry her and she’s warm to the touch but she’s shivering into his body. He hasn’t been able to hold her in a while; the hospital has rules and they’ve also been wary of pulling on her IVs. She relaxes against his chest and it reminds him of when she had colic as a baby. She shoos him from the bathroom and he paces outside the door.

            “Do you want your dad to hold you?” Mark asks her.

            “Yes please, but papa said there are rules.”

            “Well, I think we can trust your daddy to be careful.”

            “He’d be very careful, right daddy?”

            “Of course,” Louis affirms, even though he feels acid rise up his throat in anxiousness, “Where should I sit?”

            “Let’s fix up the chair and you can sit on that.”

            Louis sits down and Mark helps Maisie get comfortable in Louis’s lap while not pulling on her IVs. She curls into him and he runs his hand up and down her back.

            “Don’t let go, daddy,” She whispers into his collarbone.

            “I won’t, baby, I promise.”

            Louis doesn’t sleep and when he’s sure she’s asleep he flips through the channels to try to keep himself awake, keeping one hand flat against her spine. She doesn’t sleep well and occasionally glassy eyes stare up at him. He skims his fingers along her back and arms, whispering nonsensically to her to try and comfort her. Mark comes in before the sun rises to tell him that they’re going to start running some tests and that he should go home. Mark helps him move her to her bed and he presses his mask to her cheek. He makes sure that she knows where the call button is just incase she needs it. She tinkle-waves at him as he leaves.

            “I love you baby.”

            “I love you too daddy.”

            “See you later darling.”

            “See you later.”

            The sun is barely up when he gets back to the house. He makes himself some tea and sits at the bar staring into his cup. He takes some sips, but it’s cold before he knows it. His mum comes down as people upstairs start to move around. The kids will probably sleep in as their first winter break activity. Her eyebrows ask questions that he can’t answer and he realizes belatedly that he’s going to start crying. She ruffles his hair as she sits next to him; she scoots her chair closer and presses their shoulders together. She tilts her head onto his shoulder and he rests his against the crown of hers. He’s thankful that she hasn’t said anything because that would send him over the edge into Louis wreckage.

            Anne is the next one to come downstairs and she gets set to start a “full English.” She starts water to make poached eggs and Louis always secretly loved her breakfast the best because she took the time to make poached eggs. She’s adding vinegar to the water when she asks, “Is Maisie all right?”

            “She’s not feeling well, but they’re typical complications. She’s all right. She’ll be all right, I think, I hope,” he blubbers and the urge to hide upsurges. He’s embarrassed by how much he’s crying and by the level of weakness he’s showing. It’s why his mum didn’t make him speak, but Anne didn’t realize he needed time. Maybe, she doesn’t care, after all, she has no reason to care about him anymore.

            “I’m sorry, love,” she says as she turns away from the pan and grabs his hands that are still gripping the mug. She rubs her thumbs along the tops of his hands, “You and H have been so strong through this. I don’t think I could’ve managed the poise and optimism you two have. And it’s okay to cry, love.”

            “She’s right, baby,” his mum adds, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and squeezing.

            “Louis, what’s wrong?” Harry asks as he comes down in his workout shorts. “Is Maisie all right?”   

            “She’s fine,” Anne interrupts, “She just didn’t feel well and it got to Louis as it should.”

            “Lou, she’s all right, though?” Harry asks as he comes to stand next to him.

            “Yeah, yeah, everyone assured me it was usual complications. That it could be way worse,” Louis says and he tries not to choke on the words but he still stutters a little.

            “Hey, hey,” Harry whispers and he puts his hand on the back of Louis’s neck. It used to relax him, used to be how he knew he could let something go, but now it makes his shoulders tighten.

            “You two need to work this out,” Anne declares, gesturing at the two of them, “We can handle it today, Jay, yeah?”

            “But Maisie?” Louis interjects.

            “I’ll stay with the older kids,” Jay asserts, “I’ve handled more than three on my own before. We’ll be fine.”

            “I’ll visit Maisie,” Anne nods resolutely.

            “I need to sleep before we can hash anything out,” Louis comments, wiping at his eyes.

            “I’ll go with mum to visit Maisie and be back before lunch,” Harry finalizes. Louis nods and heads to the guest bedroom to lie down. He falls asleep almost instantly.

            “Dad,” Finn pushes his shoulder softly, “Nana Jay is going to take us to kidZone. We wanted to say good-bye.”

            “Bye, loves,” Louis says, putting his legs over the edge and pulling each of them to his chest. Lola and Toby run off quickly, but Finn lingers.

            “Are you and papa going on a date?”

            “We’re going to go talk.”

            “At a restaurant?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “About your relationship?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “About getting remarried?”

            “No.”

            “Dad,” Finn whines.

            “Bud, I’m not sure what we’re going to talk about or if it’s going to be about our relationship or just about you kids, but whatever we talk about, us getting remarried isn’t going to be one of them and if it is ever in our future, which I don’t want to get your hopes up about, it won’t be for a long time.”

            “But you’re staying in LA?”

            “Yeah, that’s not for your papa, that’s for me and you four. If I have to move into the apartment, that’s what I’ll do. If we have to figure out some kind of schedule, that’s what we’ll do. I won’t be living in London anymore.”

            “If I get a say, I’d say I want you guys to get remarried.”

            “Sorry, bud, but you don’t get a say.”

            “Fine, bye, daddio.”

            “Bye, Finn. I love you.”

            “Love you too, old man.”

            “Sass,” he grumbles.

            He eats what’s leftover from breakfast and gripes to himself when everything doesn’t taste right because he has to reheat it in the microwave. He pulls on a pair of joggers and a jumper; Harry probably looks like a model but he really doesn’t fucking care anymore. He’s doubtful Harry’s really going to talk. He’s resigned himself to being divorced and raising their kids together. As long as they can raise their kids to be happy and healthy, he doesn’t think they need to be together. He wishes they could work it out, but sometimes you have to let it go. He can hear Lola dramatically singing the _Frozen_ song in his head.

            “You’re up,” Harry comments as he walks into the living room where Louis is watching TV.

            “Yup, just waiting on you.”

            “Well, where should we go?”

            “Sycamore Canyon.”

            “Okay, I’ll drive.”

            They sit in relative silence. Louis doesn’t want to distract Harry while he’s driving and maybe they can remove some of the tension just by being together.

            “Point Mugu, yeah?” Harry asks as he maneuvers the car into the park entrance.

            “Yeah, should work for us.”

            They start walking and Louis isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say. How are they supposed to start a conversation that has been building up for years? Something that has plagued their relationships from the moment it started.

            “How’s Maisie?”

            “Still not feeling well, but everyone kept reassuring me that it was normal. Mum said she’d call if anything changed. I hope it’ll start looking up soon.”

            “Me too. Fuck me too.”

            “My mum told me that I’m being an idiot.”

            Louis hums in interest and question; Anne’s always known Harry’s faults but she’s rarely sided with Louis during their fights. In fact, Anne is the one who told him that he might as well go to London back when Noah died.

            “Since I was younger, I always thought my feelings burdened other people so I just stopped talking about them. Everything goes away when you don’t talk about it.”

            “But it doesn’t.”

            “I’ve realized that now,” Harry admits as they follow the trail, “You know it’s always worked for me.”

            “Infuriatingly so.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “I mean that I always got in trouble because I would yell and scream and then leave, and everyone would say why can’t you be more like Harry. They didn’t realize that you were still angry that you hadn’t been complacent; it was just that you didn’t feel like talking about it. It’s always been your most aggravating quality. I think it’s the only reason I ever truly got mad at you while we were together.”

            “My mum says I need to show some growth, so I’ll talk, but I’m not exactly sure what it is you want me to say.”

            “It’s not necessarily about what you’re going to say now about things that have already happened, but how you handle everything else. If you want to give us a try, you’re going to need to express your feelings when they change. I need to know what’s going on with you.”

            “So like a check-in, like we used to do with Lola when we were working on her anger management.”

            “Exactly, but now we’re working on your feelings management.”

            “Okay, I’ll try but maybe, at first, you shouldn’t say anything in response.”

            “Well, no time like the present to start.”

            “I’m terrified that Maisie isn’t going to make it and I try to put on a brave face because I don’t want her to know how scared I actually am. I don’t want any of the kids to realize how bad it is. I’m scared about what it will do to us, what it will do to our family if we lost her. It was getting better between us and it felt like the handcuffs were finally taken off. Then we learn that she’s not getting better and I knew…I knew it meant not only possibly losing her but losing you again. I would trade places with her right now if I could. I wouldn’t even think twice about it. Because I feel like it’s my fault. She has half of my genes and shit Louis, my kids are cursed. Noah, first, and now, her. I’m the one who said we should both be the parents. You didn’t even really care. You said that their genetic makeup didn’t matter that they would always be your kids and because I was selfish look what happened to my kids.

            I’m also just so mad at you. I was so mad at you. I wouldn’t talk but that wasn’t new. It’s how I always handled things, but I guess I understand. We both had these horrible ways of dealing with our emotions and it hurt the other person. I just thought that after over a decade we would’ve gotten used to it. That it would’ve become the norm for us, but I guess it doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. And it never really got tested until Noah and then we failed epically. It was worse than the break-up we had over Haylor and that was bad. I guess I thought we’d resolved it, but we’d only dampened it with promises and no actual execution.”

            “That was good, H, really good. Can I say something about what you just said?”

            “Lou, you promised.”

            “I didn’t really, though, but I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

            “Okay, okay, say it, say whatever.”

            “First, neither one of them had problems because of your genetics or because you wanted to share genetics with some of your children. This is not your fault, love; it’s just not. Bad things happen to good people, and there’s nothing we can do about that. Second, I’m scared too, beyond scared even, sometimes it stops me in my tracks. Third, I’m sorry.”

            “You’ve already apologized more than enough times.”

            “I could never apologize enough because I don’t think you understand the magnitude of my apology. It’s not just for leaving; it’s for never asking you how you were feeling because you’ve always shut down and I’ve always ran away, and I guess I should’ve known.”

            “Louis, I need to take responsibility too, I finally need to say it. I’m sorry, Louis, for playing a role in our divorce. I’m sorry for not sharing how I was feeling at the most critical moments. I know you felt shut out and I let you feel that way.”

            “I accept, if you’ll try to share. I’m staying around, so you can share now. You won’t scare me away. I won’t let you or the kids feel abandoned again. It’ll be okay, yeah?”

            “I think so. I think it just might be.”

            They turn around at a stream and head back to the car. They don’t reach for each other as they walk, but they do bump shoulders a few times. After it happens a few times, they both let out small puffs of laughter and Louis wiggles his eyebrows at Harry. The ride back to the house is quiet and Louis doses as Harry sing-hums along to the Indie playlists he’s put on.

                       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love the feedback! Thank you!!


	8. These Other Voices They Don’t Cut Through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis celebrates his birthday with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this!   
> Just a warning, I didn't have as much time to review this as usual so there might be more mistakes than usual. Sorry!

            “Happy birthday, daddy!” Lola shouts and it’s his only warning as three bodies pounce onto him.

            “Good morning, loves,” he mumbles because Toby’s hood is trying to smother him.

            “How old are you, daddy?” Lola asks, pinching fingers ready.

            “I’m not telling you,” Louis teases.

            “He’s thirty-nine,” Harry tells her as he comes to sit on the edge of Louis’s bed.

            “Traitor,” Louis hoots.

            “That’s forty pinches, daddy, thirty-nine plus one for good luck,” Lola squeals.

            “Who taught you this?” Louis wails as he squirms away from her.

            “You, silly.”

            “How about kisses instead of pinches?”

            “But that’s not fun.”

            “Thirty-nine kisses and one pinch for good luck,” Louis bargains and Harry snorts.

            “Fine,” Lola sighs and starts peppering his face with kisses. They’re better than pinches, but they’re still more aggressive than Louis thought kisses could be.

            “Pinch time,” Lola cackles and pinches the skin on his bicep.

            “Sh-,” Louis starts, but Harry throws his hand over his mouth.

            “Go set the table for breakfast, loves,” Harry orders and the kids traipse into the kitchen. Finn throws an interested look over his shoulder.

            When they’re gone and Harry’s hand is still over Louis’s mouth, he licks his palm. Harry yelps in indignation as he wrenches his hand away and Louis allows a satisfied leer to grace his features. Louis begins to sit up, but Harry pushes him back against the pillows. He pins Louis’s shoulders down and nips at his lips. Louis wants to smile against his antics, but he doesn’t want to impede it.

            “One,” Harry murmurs against Louis’s lips and tweaks his nipple.

            “Are you counting kisses or pinches?” Louis asks and it sounds like he’s almost begging for the answer. He wants to admonish himself for being so pathetic, but then again it’s his birthday so he’s allowed to do whatever he fucking pleases.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

            “Very much so.”

            “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You’re smart,” Harry teases as he walks out of the guest room.

            “Wanker,” Louis mutters as he pulls on a pair of joggers and an old jumper of Harry’s to torment him back.

            Finn is setting the table as Lola carries over plastic glasses. Anne is at the stove making poached eggs and his mum is making toast, like mother like son. Harry is carrying over numerous dishes and Louis can feel the saliva pool underneath his tongue. He kisses Toby’s newly forming curls; they weren’t lost after the shaved head like Harry had feared. Toby giggles in response and reaches above his head to grip a part of Louis. Louis kisses the other two on the head as well, Finn accepts with only a soft, irritated exhalation, but Lola hollers, “I’m working daddy.”

            “I’m sorry, love, but it’s my birthday.”

            “Okay,” she concedes apologetically and lifts her cheek for a peck.

            “Happy birthday, love,” his mum acknowledges.  

            “Thanks, mum,” Louis replies and he wonders how she feels that she’s missing Christmas with Dan, Ernie, and Dori, because he knows it’s one of the last ones where they will be living with her and Dan.

            “Happy birthday, Louis,” Anne adds as well.

            “Thank you,” he responds and sits at his usual spot at the reclaimed rustic pine table. Harry grabs Louis’s plate and starts filling it up.

            “I’m perfectly capable.”

            “I know,” Harry assures as he continues to load Louis’s favorite foods onto the plate, including two poached eggs, potato hash, and an indecent stack of bacon. His mum hands him a perfect mug of tea, and he might be in heaven.

            Especially compared to last year, when he woke up in the London house alone and had to go pick up the kids from Cheshire to go to his mum’s. Toby had clung to Harry’s neck and begged not to go; it had turned a part of Louis from sad to bitter almost instantaneously. He hadn’t conceded that day to Harry’s puppy dog eyes and had told him he’d be bringing the kids back on Boxing Day instead of Christmas evening. Harry hadn’t conceded easily and they’d said some pretty nasty things to each other. After he was positive the kids were all asleep, he’d cried himself to sleep on his thirty-eighth birthday. There was no possibility for this in his mind on that dreadful evening.

            “So what are we doing today?” Finn asks.

            “Nana Jay and I are going to go visit Maisie for a while, we’ll have dinner here, maybe a movie, and then papa will go spend the rest of the night with Maisie so she can wake up with someone for Christmas. I’ll be here with you lot, and we’ll FaceTime them while we open presents.”

            “I wish she was here,” Lola mutters.

            “Us too,” Anne responds, smoothing a hand over her hair that has just moved beyond the bristliness of a freshly shaved head.

            “The doctors say she’ll be able to come home in about a month,” Harry reminds and they all nod together. Harry tries to change the subject by asking Louis what he wants for dinner.

            “Whatever’s easiest,” Louis responds with a slight quirk to his lips.

            “Fajitas then?”

            “I know that’s not easy.”

            “Yeah, but it’s your birthday.”

            “All right, all right. Yeah, thanks.”

            “Go get ready, Maisie and I made you a present yesterday.”

            Maisie is sitting up in bed a bright smile on her face. She’s still feeling nauseous and unwell some days, but it’s much less than before, her color is getting better, and the doctors tell them she is progressing as expected. He still has to wear a mask so he waves at her enthusiastically and draws out her name in a silly yodeling call. She giggles and holds out her arms for a hug.

            “Papa and I made you a present,” Maisie cheers and thrusts a gift at him.

            “Thanks, love,” Louis takes it.

            It’s a picture frame that Maisie has decorated with paint, beads, glitter, and puffy scrapbooking stickers. The picture though is what takes his breath away; it’s a picture from his birthday four years ago and Maisie is perched on his lap smearing cake frosting on his face while Harry kisses his cheek. It had become a part of Louis’s lock-screen rotation until it had made him want to cry after the separation.

            He remembers how contented he’d been to be turning thirty-five; he’d always hated growing older but he’d had a wonderful husband, amazing children, and Michelle had told them three weeks prior that they’d be having twins. Those are the first things he remembers, not that he’d also been so happy that their enterprise was gaining real street credit and international acclaim. He only remembers how wonderful he’d felt with his family.  What is so astonishing is that Harry had found it, that he’d still had it after all this time. It hadn’t made its way into a scrapbook because they’d been so busy. Harry had just started filming his show, Louis’s enterprise with Liam had just lifted to respected global status, and then of course the twins’ birth. Harry had still had it on his phone.

            “I love it, baby, so much. This is going straight on my nightstand,” he tells her, and her beaming response is exactly what he needed.

            “Papa said you would love the picture.”

            “I do baby and I especially love your decorations. One of the best presents I’ve ever gotten, love.”

            “You’re silly, daddy. It’s just a silly picture frame.”

            “But you and your papa made it and that means a lot to me. Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome daddy. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”

            “Me too, but papa will be here tonight and I heard he’s bringing lots of movies and cookies he’s making with you siblings right now.”

            “I don’t want to open presents on Skype.”

            “I know, but you’ll be home soon. We don’t want you to come home before you’re well because that wouldn’t be good. We want you happy and healthy. Plus, you’ll get papa all to yourself.”

            “I know, but Finn and I always hand out the presents and I won’t be there to help him. We also always watch _Elf_ before we go to bed on Christmas night and we get the big fuzzy blanket from papa’s room and we all sit in it. I miss that. I miss being at home.”

            “Everybody misses you too,” his mum assures, “The house feels like it’s missing a special piece with you in here.”

            “Thanks, nana.”

            “Do you want to play World Cup Monopoly?” Louis asks her to distract her from the glum feeling.

            “So you can lose?” She counters sitting up straighter on the bed with a grin that is so much like Harry’s. One thing his daughter is not sweet about is board games.

            “Fighting words, love, those are fighting words.”

            “I know.”

            Because it’s Monopoly, the game takes over an hour and Maisie wins by a large margin. She looks proud of herself but she doesn’t brag, which is something she must have also gotten from Harry because Louis can’t help being an absolute prat when he wins.

            “I’ll be right back,” his mum says, and he raises his eyebrows. They’re supposed to be leaving in a few minutes to help Harry prep dinner and spend some time together before Harry comes back to the hospital for Christmas Eve with Maisie. They’re talking about one of Maisie’s favorite shows when the door opens. Louis is expecting his mom but instead Liam peeks his head into the room.

            “Uncle Liam,” Maisie calls and opens her arms for a hug.

            “Hello, love. How are you?” Liam asks and Maisie shrugs but her smile keeps going. Liam looks up at Louis and his features regress to the Liam Louis first met with the grin that breaks his face. “Harry birthday, bro,” Liam cheers and pulls Louis into a hug. Louis wouldn’t admit to it but he clings to Liam’s broad shoulders and lets Liam thump his hand against Louis’s back. Liam is solid and warm; Louis knows it’s selfish but he’s glad that Liam is here for his birthday.

            “Thanks, Payno.”

            “Did you bring Emma?” Maisie asks, even though she knows that other kids are not allowed to visit her.

            “No, her mum’s taken her on a cruise with her family for Christmas and they won’t be back until after Boxing Day. I thought I might as well spend my Christmas with the Styles-Tomlinson clan then because I wouldn’t get bored.”

            “That’s a good idea; our house is really loud,” Maisie agrees sagely as Louis drops a hand on Liam’s shoulder and mumbles, “Oh Liam.”

            Liam shakes his head at Louis and attempts a small smile. Louis knows he was a wreck when Harry took the kids to Jackson Hole before Christmas and they’d only had Christmas dinner together the first year after they separated. Louis knows that it’s not easy being separated so harshly from an entity you’ve been a part of for so long. Louis squeezes Liam’s shoulder again before removing it and bumping shoulders with him congenially.

            “It was good to see you, love bug,” Liam leans down and hugs Maisie, “But there’s other people here to see you. I’ll come back sometime tomorrow.”

            Liam walks out the door, and Maisie asks, “Who else do you think is here?”

            “No idea, love, this was a total surprise to me.”

            “I’m so excited,” Maisie squeals.

            “What’s up, babes?” Zayn asks as he comes through the door. Maisie squeals again and makes grabby hands for Zayn. Zayn pulls her into a tight hug; her hands clasped tightly around his neck. He’s murmuring to her in Urdu and she responds in soft, slightly unsure, broken Urdu. The smile that stretches across his lips quells her fear that he will be mad that she’s not as good as she used to be. It shows how proud he is of her for remembering what he taught her when he spent nearly a year slumping about in their guestroom while the magazines drug his name through the proverbial mud after his separation became public knowledge. Even though she’d only been four, they’d been so close that his own daughters still make comments about Maisie being his favorite, partly in jest and partly in earnestness. It’s been a full minute and she still hasn’t let him go; Louis wants to thank him profusely for coming, but he knows that would make Zayn uncomfortable.

            “All right, Maisie that’s enough,” Louis laughs, “Let poor Zayn, stand up.”

            She does but as she does, she whacks him in the arm.

            “What was that for?” Zayn whines.

            “For not visiting me the whole time I was in here and for not bringing Sami or Aminah.”

            “How do you know they’re not here? They wouldn’t be able to visit you.”

            “Because you let them spend Christmas with her every year.”

            “Touché, my dear, touché, but I did send all those gifts.”

            “They don’t make up for you.”

            Zayn clenches at his chest and throws himself back in mock agony. Maisie shakes her head in disappointment but still giggles softly. Sami and Aminah are not the only ones who are jealous of Zayn and Maisie’s connection, as Louis feels slightly neglected by their exchange.

            “Now go hug daddy it’s his birthday,” his daughter can read him incredibly accurately, even if she’s not sure what she’s seeing she responds to things so well.

            Zayn laughs and his whole face crinkles with it. Louis has always thought that people never fully appreciated just how gorgeous and wonderful Zayn looked when he laughed. Sure, the man was always beautiful, but not in the same way as when he laughed. They throw their arms around each other and Zayn wishes him a happy birthday, squeezing extra tight. 

            “Happy birthday, babe.”

            “Thanks.”

            “I’ve been in here too long,” Zayn admits, “They’ll be annoyed with me, but I’ll see you lot later.”

            Zayn is followed by Lottie, Fizzy, Phoebe, Daisy, Ernie, Dori, Dan, Gemma, and Robin. He’s incredibly floored by all of their support and the way they make Maisie’s day and her grin so large. They’re both so excited and Louis’s glad that she’s so knackered by the long list of visitors that she falls asleep before he even leaves the room. He presses his mask to her forehead in a faux kiss and begs for the day that he can do it with his lips again at the house where her siblings are only sleeping rooms away, not miles.

            Louis cries on the way home; he doesn’t know if it’s happiness or sadness because his emotions overwhelm him. His mum slides her hand into his and they sit in relative silence as she maneuvers the LA traffic.

            The house is decorated for a birthday party, elegantly and all because it’s Harry, and Louis kind of feels like he’s turning nine, not thirty nine, but he knows that Harry’s heart is in the right place even if Louis doesn’t really want to celebrate because of the circumstances. Harry goes all out for birthday parties; Harry absolutely does not play around when it comes to throwing parties.

            “Everyone head to the living room,” Harry orders as they walk through the kitchen door. Louis doesn’t want to get in trouble so he moves to follow them, “Except you, birthday boy.”

            Louis stops and turns quickly in Harry’s direction. He smiles at Harry and says, “It looks lovely. Thank you.”

            “Come here,” Harry demands gesturing at Louis to come closer. Louis moves closer but not into Harry’s personal space. Harry leans forward and kisses Louis’s nose and pinches his side, “Two.”

            “Can we make it three, or maybe even four?” Louis asks, and Harry’s grin is silly and a little lustful.

            “Three,” Harry mumbles after he presses his lips to Louis’s and pinches his other side.

            “So pinches and kisses.”

            “You learn quickly,” Harry mumbles as he presses Louis into the counter with his hands on Louis’s hips. This kiss is the longest one yet; Harry even tilts his head a little so he has the best angle. When Harry pinches Louis’s bum, it’s less of a joke and more of an invitation. Louis bucks away and straight into the cradle of Harry’s hips. They both moan, but keep their bodies pressed together.

            “Four,” Harry nips at Louis’s lower lip and Louis can’t even retort as Harry pinches his ass.

            The birthday party is wonderful; their whole family is there. Louis hasn’t experienced this kind of party since he turned thirty and Harry had to keep his mind off going to a cave to spend his whole evening pouting. His favorite people combined with his favorite food combined with talking things through with Harry means that Louis could only imagine one thing making his birthday better and that’s having all of his kids with him. Maisie does Skype with them most of the afternoon, but it’s just not the same. Harry gets in kisses and pinches totaling up to twenty-five before the party breaks up without anyone noticing.     

            “So you have to leave?” Louis asks when he and Harry are alone in their bedroom.

            “No,” Harry whispers back, kissing and pinching him, “Twenty-six.”

            “But Maisie?”

            “Zayn and Liam are going to go for a while and our families are taking the kids to see the Christmas lights in Valencia.”

            “Why?”

            “You’re not the only one who has some making up to do.”

            “Special birthday surprise?”

            “Special birthday surprise,” Harry confirms, kissing Louis’s jaws and pinching the skin on his hand so it doesn’t hurt with a soft, “Twenty-seven.”

            “I think I can be down for that.”

            Harry snorts into Louis’s clavicle. Special birthday surprises used to be a regular thing, especially when they were separated for so much of the beginning of their relationship. Harry would usually show up in Doncaster on his birthday and have to book it back to Holmes Chapel so he could be there for Christmas. He would do the same thing for Harry on his birthday: flying to LA and spending a few days with him before he had to do fan or pap service on a different continent or with Eleanor. Birthday surprises were a cornerstone of their relationship. His thirty-sixth birthday had resulted in some pretty impressive sex toys and positions with Harry. Louis had smirked every time Harry had tried to sit down the next day.

            “Come on, get your coat,” Harry urges and Louis does.

            “Where are we going?”

            “You’ll find out.”

            He’s not sure where they’re going until they arrive at the park that’s recently been renovated by the house. The kids love it and they go there regularly. They get out of the car and Louis wonders what’s so special about it. Special enough to make it a special birthday surprise. Harry leads him over to a path of bricks that Louis can tell have writing on them. Harry shines his light on one in particular:

_Noah Robin Styles-Tomlinson_

_April 19, 2027-April 19, 2027_

            “It’s beautiful, Haz.”

            “Since we couldn’t go to cemetery where he’s buried, I thought this could work for what I needed to say. I’m sorry, Louis, for what I put you through and I forgive you for how you responded. We’re not the only couple to break-up over the loss of a child, but I always thought we were better than that. I want to be better than that; I want us to move past this together. I know that the way we deal with situations can piss the other off, but we can work on that I know we can.”

            “Harry,” Louis sighs and he has no way to respond but after a while he admits, “I really want to kiss you.”

            “It will ruin my count.”

            “Not if I kiss you, right?”

            “They’re your birthday kisses.”

            He kisses him hard and Louis knows it’s not really comfortable for either of them, but there’s something about it that is letting all their frustrations and regrets out. Louis grapples to feel more of Harry and Harry struggles with the same goal in mind.

            “Let’s go home,” Louis urges when he can feel his ears tingle as the cold air whips around them.

            “Wait,” Harry murmurs breathless.

            “What?”

            “My mum told me that she sent you away. She thought she was doing the right thing; it’s the way she had always treated me as a kid.”

            “It’s okay, Harry.”

            “It’s not though, I thought you left on your own, but you were taking these signals from me and my family. That’s what made you leave.”

            “It doesn’t matter, Harry, I shouldn’t have left. I was thirty-six years old; I could make my own decisions at that point. I’ve always been stubborn; I can’t pretend I’m meek just to suit the situation. We can move past it though, yeah?”

            “I know we can.”

            “I think every year or two; we should visit his grave. Take the kids and reinforce our family bond. Remember that we need to talk and get past each other’s hang ups.”

            “Thinking far ahead aren’t you?”

            “Not too far, I hope?”

            “Nope, not too far. I’m thinking we can think about forever.”

            “Thank fuck.”

            Harry snorts and kisses Louis with the kind of passion and devotion Louis has always associated with Harry. It lifts something off of Louis’s shoulder and he can’t imagine a better birthday present. Harry pinches the erogenous spot on Louis’s neck and Louis shivers softly and together they hum, “Twenty-eight.”

            Louis follows Harry up the stairs when they get back to the house. The reverence in Harry’s eyes matches Louis’s own, and Louis wonders if it will completely ruin Harry’s surprise if he cries. Harry pulls Louis’s top off and kisses his clavicle and tweaks a nipple, “twenty-nine.”

            “Stop teasing, Harry.”

            “Why in the hell would I do that?”

            “It’s my birthday.”

            “I know you’ve said so numerous times and it definitely means that teasing is in order.”

            Louis shivers as Harry wraps his lips around Louis’s nipple. It’s only after he has been doing it for a few minutes that he realizes that he’s been whimpering this whole time. Again, he’s slightly mortified, but he pushes through the embarrassment because the fact that Harry still turns him on isn’t something he should be ashamed of. Harry runs his finger over the kids’ names and birthdates that are tattooed over Louis’s left ribs. He kisses each of them and pinches Louis’s sides until he’s squirming.

            “Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four,” Harry counts as he pulls Louis’s bottoms off, sliding his pants off as well.

            “Haz, Hazza, please,” Louis begs and Harry falls back on his heels and smirks down at him.

            “Only a few more kisses left, what should I do with them?”

            “Please.”

            Harry smirks at him again and lies down in the spread of Louis’s legs. He presses a kiss to the base of Louis’s cock and pinches his thigh simultaneously.

            “Count for me, love,” Harry murmurs into his navel where he’s licking stripes and then blowing air onto them to make Louis shiver.

            “Thirty-five,” Louis whimpers.

            “Good.”

            Harry leans down and kisses above the spot he’d pressed the thirty-fifth kiss, “Thirty-six.”

            The next one is above that one; Harry is making a trail of kisses up his dick and creating bruises on his thigh with his pinches, “Thirty-seven.”

            The next one falls above the last and Louis hates the way that it feels like he lingers longer each time, “Thirty-eight.”

            Thirty-nine is placed directly on the tip of his cock before Harry opens his mouth and licks, “Thirty-nine.”

            Louis’s so lost in the sensation of Harry’s mouth on him that he misses Harry reaching for the lube until his fingers are prodding at Louis’s hole. Louis tries to relax but he can feel his body clenches. Harry whispers nonsensically to him and looks at him with that reverence again that allows Louis to let that little bit go.

            “You okay?” Harry asks.

            “Yeah.”

            “This okay?”

            “Yeah, love, I want you so bad.”

            “Thank god.”

            The prep takes longer than usual but Harry’s always enjoyed this part and nips at Louis’s thighs playfully, making Louis cry out. Harry enters him slowly and Louis doesn’t understand how he shows the restraint but he’s glad he has it because it’s taking Louis longer than usual to adjust.

            When he finally does adjust, he wiggles his hips and Harry takes that as a sign. Harry almost pulls out the whole way before rocking his hips forward until they’re flush with Louis’s bum. He hits Louis’s prostate time after time, and Louis feels the tenseness of release building in his navel.

            “Gonna come,” he whimpers.

            “Come on, love, come for me,” Harry whispers as he leans down to bracket Louis’s face. He adjusts his weight and wraps his long fingers around Louis’s cock. It only takes a few moves before Harry is pressing his lips to Louis’s and Louis is releasing into Harry’s palm. Harry keeps kissing him and Louis physically wants to pull away because he’s breathless from his orgasm. He doesn’t, though, because he can feel the way that Harry’s hips are stuttering and it tells him Harry’s close. He kisses Harry until he collapses onto his chest, murmuring, “And one for good luck.”

            He pinches Louis’s bum hard. Louis might let out an undignified squeal.

            It’s hard to watch Harry leave, but he has enough memories of him on his skin that will last him until tomorrow. Harry grabs the bag of gifts for Maisie that are from Father Christmas and kisses him again.

            “I think I’m going to be extra lucky with all the extra kisses I’m getting,” Louis teases, and Harry kisses him again with a wink.

            “Bye, Lou.”

            “Bye, love. Tell Maisie that I love her and can’t wait to see her.”

            “I will.”

            The other kids come back knackered and Louis happily puts them to bed with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads, even though he’s almost positive they’ve never had them in their lives.

            Liam hugs him so tightly that he has to pat Liam’s back to make him let go. Zayn ruffles his hair, which he hates, but he knows is Zayn’s way of showing how happy he is for them.

            Their mums grin at him knowingly but don’t offer their congratulations. It would probably be a little awkward, what with the love bite blooming on Louis’s neck.

            The rest of the family pretends like they’re not sure what’s going on, and maybe they’re not or maybe they also don’t want to acknowledge the love bite.

            He sleeps well in the master bedroom, even if Harry isn’t there, the pillows smell like him. The kids pile on him in the morning and he hasn’t seen bigger grins on their faces in quite some time, especially Finn who looks like he might burst sunshine and rainbows.

            “Why are you sleeping in here?” Lola demands and all three kids watch him closely for his answer.

            “Well, Uncle Liam and Uncle Zayn took the guest bedroom.” He really shouldn’t tease them on Christmas, but he wouldn’t be Louis Tomlinson if he didn’t take every opportunity.

            “Dad?” Finn questions.

            He doesn’t want to see his son deflate, so he adds, “And your papa and I made up. I’ll be staying in here for the time being.”

            “Best Christmas present ever,” Finn cries and launches himself into Louis’s arms. It chokes Louis up and he nuzzles all three of them while he blinks back the tears in his eyes. It truly is the best Christmas present ever.

            Skyping with Harry and Maisie isn’t ideal, but she looks better than she did the day before so Louis feels hope in that. The kids momentarily forget about Harry and Louis’s reconciliation with the prospect of tangible gifts. Harry makes them take turns opening and Louis loves the way that the kids play along, even though Lola has to sit on her hands to control herself. They love them so much and Louis’s always awed that the world thought he deserved all this. Liam must see him getting melancholy because he brings him a cup of tea and a shoulder pat.

            Just as they’re about to sign off Skype to eat the Christmas breakfast his mum and Anne prepared, Finn cries, “Wait, Maisie, I forgot to tell you the best thing that happened today.”

            “What?” She asks eagerly,

            “Dad and Papa are back together,” Finn cheers and it sends a little uproar through both rooms.

            “Really?” Maisie asks, looking directly at Harry and the other kids wait with baited breath too, even though they’d hear it from Louis that morning.

            “Yes, really.” Harry confirms and the way he glows with the answer makes Louis feel so much better. Harry was right about telling the kids on Christmas; even though they weren’t sure about the logistics, they knew they would be together and it would make their kids that much happier. After Christmas breakfast, the kids get ready to play with their new toys and watch as many Christmas movies as they can.

            Louis leaves them in their families’ capable hands and goes to the hospital. He thinks that if Maisie wasn’t attached to monitors and IVs, she would have flung herself at him when he walked through the door. An exuberance that he misses is back and another round of tears brush his eyelashes.

            “Kiss,” Maisie demands, and Harry and Louis do, even if masks get in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to see/read your feedback; it means a lot to me and makes me think. Thank you to all who have commented before.


	9. I Need Someone That I’ll Look To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn gets his birthday wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is everything you all were hoping for. I'm sorry it took so long; since the last time I posted, I started a new job and bought a house, so my life has been a little bit crazy. 
> 
> Forewarning, this is tooth-rooting fluff.

            “Fuck, Harry, wake up,” Louis growls, shaking Harry awake.

            “Lou, what’s going on? Why are you waking me up at…” he glances at the clock on his bedside table, “two in the morning? What is so bloody important that it could not wait until morning?”

            “We’ve been so busy with Maisie that we forgot about Finn’s birthday.”

            “Finn’s birthday isn’t until the eighteenth; we’ve got plenty of time.”

            “It’s the eleventh.”

            “That can’t be true,” Harry mumbles as he gropes for his phone, “Fuck, he’s going to kill us.”

            “It’s why he’s been so moody. He thinks we’ve forgotten.”

            “We have.”

            “Had,” Louis corrects, “So now we’ve got to play it off.”

            “Surprise party. That’s the best thing I can think of.”

            “Maisie coming home.”

            “That would be amazing,” Harry agrees. His eyes are wide and hopeful.

            “The doctor said she could come home soon; let’s just see how soon that really is.”

            “Finn would cry.”

            “So we probably shouldn’t invite his friends.”

            “The least amount of germs as possible too,” Louis surmises.

            “That would make his birthday.”

            “It definitely would.”

            “I can’t believe he’s going to be a teenager.”

            “We’re old as fuck,” Louis jokes.

            “It’s okay because we’re going to grow older together.”

            “Yeah,” Louis agrees as errant water brushes his eyelashes; he reaches his hand out to caress Harry’s cheek. He’s sleep-warm and pliant under Louis’s palm. Harry kisses the corner of Louis’s palm that grazes his mouth. Louis lies back down next to Harry pressing his front to Harry’s back. Louis kisses the skin stretched over Harry’s vertebrae. Harry shivers a little but pushes his body closer to Louis’s; his ass pressed between Louis’s hips. Louis slides his fingers along the laurel on Harry’s hip. A contented sigh escapes from Harry’s lips and Louis can’t contain his grin. 

            “I love you,” Harry whispers, “Even when you wake me up in the middle of the night, I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

            Louis’s up before Harry, which is an anomaly and then he hears why. He can hear soft crying coming from somewhere in the house. He gets up to investigate and follows it to Finn’s room. The door isn’t completely latched so Louis pushes it open gently.

            “Finnian?” Louis asks softly before he’s fully moved into the room.

            “Yeah?” Finn responds as he flops onto his stomach.

            “What’s wrong, love?”

            “Nothing.”

            “Finny Winny, you’re crying.”

            “My birthday’s next week,” Finn howls.

            “I know, love.”

            “But you and papa haven’t asked me what I want for presents or what I want to do.”

            “Maybe, it’s because we already have something planned. Did you ever think of that?”

            “I just thought because of Maisie…”

            “Baby, we would never forget about your birthday,” Louis feels a little bit guilty that he’s basically lying to Finn, but he can’t imagine the truth would go over well with his son’s current fragile state. He presses his lips to the crown of Finn’s head and feels the boy sink into his side. Louis remembers thirteen years ago how nervous they were as they prepared their London abode for Finn’s arrival. Harry had rearranged the nursery more times than Louis could count and he’d stocked it with so many diapers that they’d made a massive donation to a homeless shelter after Finn grew out of them.

            “Have I ever told you about the day you were born?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Can I tell you again?”

            “Yeah.”

            “So papa and I were sleeping, it was cold outside and we had almost every blanket in the house on our bed. Papa always had his phone on the ringer, super loud, just in case Michelle needed anything. I don’t know if either one of us even slept after your due date, which was four days before you were born. We would kind of just lay in bed, hoping for the phone to ring.

            Papa wasn’t that old, I wasn’t that mature, I thought we should wait, and I was a little worried we were getting ahead of ourselves that we would be absolutely horrible at being parents.”

            “You weren’t, you’re not,” Finn interrupts.

            “Thanks, love. Whenever his phone would ring, my throat would seize up and I’d start to panic, but Papa was always so constant. He was so excited for you to arrive; I’ve never seen anyone more ready to be a parent than your papa. He loves all of you to the ends of the universe and back; I love you all that much too. I knew that at the time. I wasn’t sure if we were going to be good at it, but I knew we would always love you guys with everything we had and I hoped that was enough. It seems to have worked so far.

            So we were pretending to sleep when Michelle called, your papa put her on speaker and I could hear her heaving. I could hear Frank talking to her softly, and she was always so lucky she had Frank because your papa would’ve made her move in otherwise.

            We raced directly to the hospital and waited for almost sixteen hours before you showed your face. You were red and wrinkly, but I’ve never thought anything was lovelier in my entire life. I don’t think we put you down except to sleep for weeks; your papa would just gaze at you and kiss your soft strands of hair. He carried you around in a baby sling all day; I could barely get a hold of you much less anybody else. I thought Nana Jay was going to kill papa for withholding her first grandbaby. You cried a lot and I cried a lot and papa cried a lot, but you were more than worth it.

            Sometimes, I think we’re a little too hard on you; we put too much pressure on you but it’s just because we know you can take it. You are the child we look to every time we need something; you are an absolutely wonderful child and a wonderful big brother. I love you so much.”

            “Thanks, dad.”

            “So we would never forget about your birthday.”

            “Okay, are you going to ask me what I want?”

            “Not sure.”

            “Well, I want Maisie to come home.”

            “Baby, that’s not up to us.”

            “Well, then I want to go to a Rovers game.”

            “Probably won’t be until spring break.”

            “That’s okay. I want only you and papa to go.”

            “Only if Maisie can fly and stay with one of your grans; otherwise, it’ll be just you and me, bub.”

            “Better than nothing.”

            “I think we’ll be able to get three games in.”

            “We could go to all of the them?”

            “Of course; we could get a box.”

            “I want to sit close.”

            “We could manage that.”

            “Thanks dad.”

            “No problem, you should probably go back to bed it’s the weekend after all. You’re almost a teenager; they’re supposed to sleep all weekend.”

            “Very funny, I’m probably going to go see if Toby is up. We like to watch cartoons in the morning and Lola is probably already downstairs. Is papa still sleeping?”

            “Yeah, you should take Toby in to wake him up.”

            “Not nice, dad.”

            “Papa does it to me all the time.”

            “True.”

            Louis tramps down the stairs and Lola is already watching cartoons on the TV with a blanket around her shoulders like a cape. He kisses the top of her head and she sighs indulgently at him.

            “Daddy Breakfast Sandwiches sound all right to you, Dolores?”

            “Yes, don’t call me that.”

            “But that’s what we named you.”

            “And it’s a stupid name.”

            “Lady of Sorrows. It’s a beautiful name.”

            “Daddy, stop it,” Lola whines.

            Louis hollers with laughter as he goes to the kitchen and preps the breakfast sandwiches he’s so famous for.

            Harry nips Louis at the juncture of his neck and shoulder as Louis fries sausage in a pan. Louis squirms, “Babe, I’m going to burn myself.”

            “Thanks for the wake up call,” Harry comments and nips Louis again.

            “If you give me a hard-on, breakfast is going to extremely awkward.”

            “For you maybe.”

            “Knock it off, H.”

            “Or what?”

            “What’s got you so cheeky this morning?”

            “You’re here and I know we’re better together. I missed you; I missed us.”

            “I was always going to be here; I was always going to love them.”

            “I know, love, but I wasn’t sure you were always going to love me.”

            “Are the boys down here?” Louis feels his throat start to close at Harry’s confession, so he changes the subject.

            “They’re with Lola.”

            “Maisie needs to come home and this would all be perfect.”

            “Putting us on a pedestal, huh?”

            “Nah, it’s just perfect for me.”

            “You’re such a sap,” Harry laugh as he smacks Louis’s ass and grabs milk and orange juice out of the fridge. Louis chuckles and throws bread in the toaster.

            “Come get some food, loves,” Louis calls and the kids meander into the kitchen. They jump up to the counter and dig in without speaking. Louis stands on the other side as he watches the four of them eat.

            He leaves right after breakfast to go see Maisie. She’s sitting up in her bed making a Kumihimo friendship bracelet. She smiles beatifically at him and it’s the first time that he hasn’t had to wear a mask. He kisses her forehead and then peppers the rest of her head with kisses. She laughs happily and hugs him tightly.

            “How are you feeling, love?”

            “Really good, daddy, when do you think I’ll be able to go home?”

            “I don’t know, Maisie, that’ll be up to the doctors.”

            “But I feel fine.”

            “I know, but sometimes our bodies lie to us because we’ve felt so much worse before.”

            “I’m making this for Finn,” Maisie grins, “It’s almost his birthday.”

            “I know. It’s very nice that you’re making him something.”

            There’s a soft knock on the door, and then the doctor is poking his head through the door and saying, “Mr. Tomlinson, Miss Maisie.”

            “Hi, Doctor Williams,” Maisie greets and then asks, “When can I go home?”

            “Right to it, I see. Well, we just did a test yesterday and your cell counts are still a little low, but next week we’ll test again and then we’ll discuss it again. I’m pretty confident it will happen next week.”

            “Promise?” Maisie asks, “It’s my brother’s birthday!”

            “You know doctors don’t make promises, love,” Louis reminds.

            “Your dad is right, but it’s highly probable.”

            Maisie squeals and grins at the doctor. Louis places his hand on her head and she giggles. Louis feels his throat closing up and his eyes filling with water; this is becoming less and less of an anomaly everyday. He’d been so scared that they’d never get to this point. He’d worried that he’d never get to take her home and see her get better. He whispers, “That’s great. We want to surprise her brother for his birthday.”

            “So we’ll work hard this week, eh?”

            “Yep,” Maisie agrees and squeezes her eyes shut as if she’s concentrating on producing more blood cells. Louis laughs and she beams at him, “Daddy, I’m going to get to go home.”

            “I know, love. I’m so excited. Everyone will be so excited.”

            Louis talks to her about what she’s been doing and what her plans are for when she goes home. Louis knows their life will contain so many wonderful events now that they’ll have all their kids at home. They eat dinner together and she dozes while they watch _Moana_ for the thousandth time. She sits in his lap with a blanket wrapped around her body. Louis can tell she’s getting heavier and hopefully healthier. He keeps pressing kisses to her skull where little hairs tickle his lips. She loops an arm into his jumper and buries her face in his chest. He runs his hand along her back and he doesn’t cringe as his fingers run over her bones.  They don’t jut out to trap his fingers between them like they have for the last few months. He can’t believe it was less than a year ago that he’d been able to throw her up in the air and chase her around the yard. He’s hoping that she’ll be back to that by her birthday in a few months. He knows it might be a pipe dream, but sometimes you have to hang onto those dreams to be able to sleep at night.

            She’s able to stay somewhat conscience through the movie and when he puts her under the covers of her bed, she asks for a kiss on the cheek. He indulges her, of course, with more kisses than is probably necessary.

            “I love you, daddy,” she whispers sincerely as he gathers up his things.

            “I love you too, baby,” he responds, “Aunt Lottie texted me and said that she’ll be here soon to sleep over.”

            “O yay. Tell her I love her if I’m sleeping when she gets here.”

            “Okay, love. Papa will be here tomorrow afternoon and will stay the night, okay?”

            “Sounds good,” she responds as she yawns and buries her face into the pillow.

            “You’re wonderful, I love you.”

            “Love you too daddy.”

            He’s glad they’d accepted the help their family had offered them. It had been too much for them to spend their nights and days at the hospital. It had been hard on the person who was there and the person who was at home. It was a lose-lose situation. To make their relationship work and their family happy, they needed to figure out a better balance. He doesn’t like saying goodbye to her, having to leave her somewhere that one of her parents is not, but he placates himself by reminding himself it won’t last that much longer.

            Harry is watching something on HGTV when he comes home, the kids clearly asleep. Harry glances up at him and he tries to return the smile that Harry graces him with. He’s quiet as he moves around the room slightly overwhelmed by everything, taking his shoes off and grabbing something to eat to calm his dazed feeling. He sits next to Harry, so close their thighs are pressed together and Harry has to lift his arm to Louis’s shoulders to be comfortable. He eats the pretzels contemplatively and drinks the beer slowly; Harry runs his fingers through Louis’s hair but doesn’t talk, just a gentle physical reassurance. It’s these little things that Louis is going to have to get used to again. He hasn’t shared his worries with someone in so long, probably even before they got divorced he’d been keeping more to himself. Burdens are always easier stretched over two sets of shoulders.

            He presses a kiss to Harry’s collarbone that peeks out from under his vest. In return, Harry kisses Louis’s forehead and keeps playing with his hair. He turns into Harry finally, resting his head below Harry’s collarbone and looping his arm around Harry’s waist. He smells clean, like cardamom and lavender from the soap he buys for the kids, and something that is so uniquely him, spicy with a hint of sweetness, like his Tom Ford cologne has melded with his body to create something so essentially Harry. Harry’s hair is still damp and slicked away from his face; Louis can smell hints of mint wafting from it. It smells like relief, comfort, and home.

            “The doctor thinks she’s going to be able to come home soon,” Louis reveals finally.

            “That’s good news,” Harry responds and then looks down at Louis, “Right?”

            “Of course it’s good news. I want her home so desperately, but it’s just all so overwhelming. I don’t know Haz, I don’t know what we’re going to do when she comes home.”

            “What do you mean?” Harry asks and the tightening of his muscles is almost imperceptible, but Louis can still feel it, recognizes Harry’s distrust, and it crushes him a little bit.

            “I just mean that I’m going to want to handle her with kid-gloves and I know that’s not good. That it might show some kind of favoritism and it could have been any of them, but it was Maisie and I just want to keep her in a bubble.”

            “But we can’t do that. We can’t do that to any of them. It’s scary, I know, but we’ll definitely make it through.”

            Louis nods his head, “Do you think we’ll ever be able to treat her the same?”

            “I think it will be gradual. I think for the first few months and even years we’ll think about it everyday, maybe even every hour, but then it will shift into the recesses of our memories. We’ll maybe go days or even weeks without thinking about it. It’ll take time Lou. We’ll be healing from an extremely traumatic event and it will be okay if you don’t immediately forget. It’ll be okay if you hug all of our kids just a little bit tighter. Nobody will judge you when you have a mini heart attack when one of them gets sick. ”

            Louis can feel his breaths shake on the inhalations and he’s not yet ready to respond to Harry who has gone back to rhythmically carding his hand through Louis’s hair. He knows that it soothes Harry as much as it soothes him. This position has always been their go to when either of them is stressed. They’ve always found relief in each other, when they weren’t too stubborn to share their feelings.

            “Do you think she’ll be able to come home for Finn’s birthday?”

            “I hope so; I think so.”

            “That’s good, that’s good.”

            “Let’s go to bed, love.”

            “Okay.”

            The week flies by and before they know it Finn’s birthday has arrived. They have gotten the all clear from Maisie’s doctors and she’s giddier than Louis has ever seen her. She’s still weak and they’ll be carting her back and forth to the hospital for months, but she’ll be sleeping only a few feet away from them now and not miles.

            She’s wearing the YSL scarf Louis bought her when she first started to loose her hair. The nurses have set her up in a wheelchair and she’s bouncing; Louis can almost forget about how sick she was and still is. Almost. She reaches up for him and he picks her up because he doesn’t have to worry about her IVs getting in the way anymore. Harry has taken the other three to an indoor activity place for Finn’s birthday, so the nurses give him the run down of what she needs and then implore that he puts her back in the wheelchair so they can follow protocol. He relents, and lets them wheel her to the front entrance before wrapping her up in a jacket and blanket, even though it’s warm enough that he’s only wearing a thin sweater. He buckles her in and kisses her with reverence.

            “I love you, Margaret Johannah Tomlinson.”

            “I love you too, daddy,” Maisie giggles lightly.

            “Your brothers and sister are going to be so excited to see you. Your older brother, especially.”

            “Is anyone else coming over?”

            “Tomorrow, everyone is going to come over, but we thought tonight it should just be the six of us.”

            “That’s good, I don’t want to share.”

            “I completely understand.”

            “Are they going to be home when we get home?”

            “Nope, papa has taken them out, but they’ll be back rather quickly. I was thinking we could take a nap.”

            “In papa’s room?”

            “Yes, in mine and papa’s room.”

            “I forgot.”

            “Forgot what, darling?”

            “I forgot you and papa were in papa’s room again.”

            “Yeah, love.”

            “That makes me happy.”

            “It makes me happy too.”

            “Are you guys married again?”

            “No, baby,” Louis responds and Maisie groans. He can see her shaking her head in the rearview mirror.

            “Do you want to be?”

            “Married?”

            “Yes, daddy, married.”

            “Right now, it’s not something your papa and I are focused on, but we might move there. We need to talk more.”

            “I want you guys to be married again. I want you to live with us and I want papa to be happy and I want you to be happy and I want Lola, Finn, and Toby to be happy. I want everyone to be happy and I think that’s only possible if you and papa get married again. That will fix all the sadness. I know it.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind love,” Louis whispers.

            When they get back to the house, Louis thinks he might be as exhausted as Maisie is, so they climb into the large bed in the master bedroom. She curls into his body; her feet are icy and she pressed them into Louis’s calves. While the rest of her body is also chilled, it’s not obviously so. She’s not shivering like she had been for months and her skin is, thankfully, not tacky with perspiration. Her hair has finally started to grow back and it scratches Louis’s cheek while she settles in next to him. He closes his eyes and the relief of having her back slowly lulls him into sleep.

            The alarm for the rest of their family’s arrival jars them both awake, and Maisie rolls onto her stomach groaning into Harry’s pillow. At first, it sends a terrified jolt through Louis’s body because he’s terrified she’s sick, but then he realizes she just doesn’t want to get out of bed. Instead of fear, the second groan brings a tremendous smile to his face. He has to stifle his gleeful chuckle because he knows she won’t appreciate it the way she should.

            “That means Papa, Finn, Lola, and Toby will be home soon,” Louis informs her. She flops back over and looks at him with a wide grin.

            “How are we going to surprise them?”

            “Not sure, do you have any ideas?”

            “What if I just sit in the middle of the couch? You could lead them in with their eyes closed and sit them by me. Then we could count down and shout surprise.”

            “I like it,” Louis agrees.

            “Blindfolds!” She shouts suddenly and he laughs hysterically.

            He gets her situated on the couch with a large bottle of water and a bowl of raisins and Goldfish. She eats methodically but she doesn’t push it away like she had before she went to the hospital. Another little win.

            Harry calls him when they’re five minutes out and he can hear Harry’s barely contained joy. Louis understands it and is so happy they’ll be able to share this elation.

            Harry texts him when they’re in the garage and Louis goes out to help him because they need to wrangle them to keep from revealing the surprise too early.

            Lola and Toby are asleep in their seats so they’re easy. Harry grabs Toby and Louis picks-up Lola. Louis distracts Finn with questions about their trip. They arrive in the kitchen and they haven’t let anything on yet.

            “Hold up,” Louis tells Finn as Finn heads towards the living room presumably to veg-out in front of the TV, “We have a surprise for you.”

            Finn spins on his heels with his eyes wide. Louis smirks at him and ties the blindfold onto his eyes, not trusting his son to not peek. After all, he knows he would.

            They lead Finn into the living room and they have him sit down next to Maisie who has her hands over her mouth in order to stop herself from screeching in delight. Finn is bouncing next to her with the prospect of any kind of surprise. Louis gently sets Lola down on the other side of Maisie and Harry offers her a sleeping Toby, who she readily accepts as she removes her hands from her mouth, bites her lips, and holds out her arms for him.

            “When can I take it off?” Finn asks desperately.

            “In five, four, three, two, one, now,” Harry and Louis chime together.

            “Finn pulls off the blindfold, whips his head from side-to-side, and then lets go of the most euphoric scream Louis thinks he’s ever hear, and he was in a boy band. The noise wakes up Lola and Toby who both let out equally excited cheers.

            “Happy birthday,” Maisie giggles as Finn hugs her shoulders.

            They were right about keeping this a private moment; tears stream down his face and he lets out the most heart-wrenching sobs after the initial shock wears off. He presses his face into a pillow and Maisie runs her fingers through his hair. Toby wraps his arms around her neck and mutters incoherently to her. Lola has sidled a hand between Toby and Maisie and has latched onto her sister’s waist. Maisie smiles up at Harry and Louis and if Louis didn’t understand disease, he would think this was more likely to cure her than any other treatment she had received. He looks at Harry and can see the look of awe on his face, but he can also see how wet Harry’s eyes are. He pulls Harry to him, wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, and grips his side in comfort. Harry turns and kisses Louis’s temple. Louis squeezes Harry’s side again and he knows his own tears will probably start soon.

            They all eventually stop crying, especially after Maisie implores them to stop because she wants to be happy. Harry starts making Finn’s birthday dinner, fajitas, and Louis sets the kids up with a new movie Finn wanted to watch. After all four kids are settled in a tangle of arms and legs, Louis checks on Harry who is standing over the cutting board with tears still in his eyes. He’s twitching ever so slightly and Louis reaches out to still his hands. Harry flinches away a little because he’s always tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal when he cried.

            “Hey now,” Louis whispers gently, “None of that, remember?”

            Harry nods in acquiesce but doesn’t look at Louis until Louis drags Harry in front of him. He kisses the tear tracks and then Harry’s lips. Louis rubs his hands up and down Harry’s arm and then holds him fiercely. Harry’s ribs groan in protest but Harry goes slack in Louis’s arms.

            “I’ve got you, yeah?” Louis reminds and he can feel Harry’s breath on his neck, ragged and damp.

            “I’m so glad you’re here,” Harry says after a few moments, “I never thought we would have this again.”

            “I’m so glad we do,” Louis responds, his hand tight on Harry’s skull.

            “Me too,” Harry agrees.

            Louis holds Harry for a lot longer than is necessary and he can hear the movie start to move towards its climax so they better start moving towards finishing dinner. Louis helps Harry chop vegetables and gets out the tortillas and other condiments as Harry slices up chicken to grill. Harry soon has the pan sizzling and Louis can feel his stomach rumble with anticipation. He sets up the counter with a plethora of accouterments because they’re going to let the kids eat dinner in the living room as they watch another movie that Finn picked out.

            After they finish eating, Louis cleans up the plates and then sits next to Harry. Soon Finn is wedged between them, Maisie crawls into Harry’s lap, Toby into Louis’s, and Lola into Finn’s. For the longest time, Louis had always thought that being a businessman was the most accomplished he would ever feel. It wasn’t that he hadn’t realized that being a parent was the most rewarding thing he’d ever do. He’d just rarely felt accomplishment from it, but now that all four of his children and Harry are pressed together on a couch, watching some Marvel movie, he feels more accomplished than he’s ever felt before.

            “Maisie, do you want to sleep with Papa and me tonight?” Louis asks as Harry shoots him death glares over his head, which surprises Louis. He couldn’t imagine Harry wanting her to sleep in a different room.

            “No, thanks, daddy. I’d rather sleep in my own bed; I’ve missed it,” she confesses. “Plus, Finn, Lola, and Toby are going to come sleep in my room tonight.”

            “Are they?”

            “Well, they want to. Is that okay daddy?”

            “Of course, baby. Let me know if you need anything.”

            “Maybe just a blanket. Maybe one from your and Papa’s bed.”

            “We can do that.”

            Louis grabs her the blanket that they only use if it’s super cold outside or they’re napping on top of a made bed. Louis also wraps himself in it when Harry was visiting Maisie, so it smells like a mix of the two of them. When Louis returns to Maisie’s room, Toby is already dozing in the middle of the bed next to Maisie as Finn walks around bolstering the edges of the bed with pillows from the other kids’ rooms.

            “Good job, Finn,” Louis praises and Finn turns to him with a big brother indulgent smile that he recognizes from his own face.

            “Good night, loves. I love you so much.”

            “We love you too, daddy,” they reply in sync.

            “I love you too, my babies,” Harry crones.

            They all shake their heads and giggle, “We love you too, papa.”

            “Make sure you go to sleep,” Harry reminds and he looks pointedly at Lola and Finn because he knows Maisie needs her sleep but won’t admit it to her siblings.

            “I know, Papa,” Finn promises, “We’re tired from today anyways.”

            “I’m not,” Lola begins but Finn shakes his head at her and she stops talking.

            “See you tomorrow morning.”

            Harry and Louis go back to their room, Harry sliding his hand into Louis’s. When they get to their room Harry starts to undress him, it’s always been a calming activity for Harry. It doesn’t always lead to sex; sometimes, it does, and sometimes, it leads to them weaving their naked limbs into an intricate pattern of connectedness and love. Louis wouldn’t mind either outcome right now.

            His cock becomes half-interested when Harry kisses Louis’s thighs, but Harry doesn’t seem all that horny. He drags Louis over to the bed and they crawl under the covers together. Harry presses their bodies together in a weaved mess. Louis smiles into Harry’s neck; it’s uncontrollable.

            “Let’s get remarried,” Harry declares and Louis holds his breath before realizing what this is probably really about.

            “Did Maisie bring this up with you too?”

            “No, I came up with this one on my own.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Of course, I’m sure.”

            “Harry, I don’t want to force you into anything.”

            “You’re not forcing me into anything Louis.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “I’m absolutely positive.”

            “I’d be over the moon to remarry you.”

            “Good,” Harry laughs, pressing his nose into Louis’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you thought. Kudos and comments, as always, are much appreciated. 
> 
> The only thing left is an epilogue. I'd like to know what you'd like to read about. It may become the epilogue or a little ficlet. 
> 
> Thank you for you patience and incredible words of encouragement!


	10. Epilogue: I Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day of the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like the ending!

            “Are you nervous?” Liam pesters Louis as Louis secures his tie around his neck.

            “We’ve done this before, Payno,” Louis replies, completely avoiding the question because he is, sincerely, far more nervous than even he expected.

            “That doesn’t answer the question though does it,” Liam teases.

            “It’s my wedding day, Liam, I thought you of all people would be respectful of that.”

            “Well, since I’ve done this before with you, not so much.”

            “Fuck off royally,” Louis grumbles.

            “Somebody’s tetchy and maybe a bit nervous.”

            “Maybe a bit,” Louis mumbles as he adjusts his tie for the umpteenth time.

            “He loves you, you know that right?”

            “We’ve gotten divorced before, Liam; I’m allowed to be nervous.”

            “Honestly, Louis, I’ve never seen two people more in love than you two. I’ve known you two for quite sometime and honestly I can’t imagine it not working out.”

            “You’re a sap,” Louis criticizes but the smile on his lips reveals a different story.

            The door bursts open suddenly and a brood of children fall over the threshold. Toby is belly-laughing so hard that Louis is worried that he’s not getting enough oxygen into his system. They’re not dressed yet and Louis wonders exactly what Lottie is playing at, but he has to remember to be zen and not let anything bother him, like Harry suggested the day before when they parted ways.

            “Where’s Aunt Lottie?”

            “We’re playing hide’n’seek,” Lola reports happily.

            “Does Aunt Lottie know you’re playing hide and seek?”

            “No, that’s what makes it so fun,” Lola bursts; her squeal of delight rivals Toby’s. Finn and Maisie, however, look away guiltily; they break eye contact with Louis as quickly as possible. He wants to be mad, but he’s really just amused. He knows he would be equally inclined to wreck havoc. In fact, he knows he was a little bit of a shit when his mum married Dan, and he was an adult by then. He does text his sister though and lets her know where they are because he feels slightly bad that they saddled his siblings with getting the kids ready.

            Lottie shows up only minutes later with reinforcements, Gemma, Ernie, and Dori. One person for each kid, smart idea, Louis thinks. Maisie and Finn look chagrined, Toby is too young to realize their transgression so he laughs heartily into Ernie’s neck as he shouts, “You found us,” when Ernie scoops him up, but Lola still has a devilish smirk on her face when Lottie grabs her hand.

            “Be good, Lola,” Louis calls after them.

            “Bye daddy,” she responds, and he knows that just means she’s intentionally ignoring his order.

            “Dolores Anne,” he chastises.

            “I’ll try, daddy,” she sighs heavily, her icicle eyes penetrating his with death glares.

            “That’s my girl.”

            “Boring,” she groans and she slumps off after Lottie who gives him a grateful look. Louis’s not sure if she should be appreciative just yet.

            It’s another forty-five minutes before the ceremony begins. Louis can feel his nerves get the better of him and he keeps shaking out his wrists in the hopes that the anxious energy will exit him through his fingertips.

            This is important to both of them, even though they swear it isn’t. They swear that it’s just a formality, but Louis know that if that were the case they would’ve gone down to the courthouse and gotten it over with long before today. It wouldn’t have mattered what day it fell on, but it does matter. It’s why they waited until after Maisie had been in remission for a year and then waited another month to have the date fall on the same day as their original wedding anniversary.

            It would’ve been their fifteenth wedding anniversary so he has a vintage Rolex watch with a sapphire-crystal face and a ruby-colored leather strap waiting in their hotel room. He hopes that Harry will appreciate the detail and sentimentality of it. Louis bites his lip to stop the errant tears.

            The ceremony space is set up in a circle with a platform in the middle. They’ll both walk up an aisle to each other; the same way they did when they first got married. However, this time there are four giddy children waiting for them on the platform. Toby is standing in front of Finn, Finn has his hands on Toby’s shoulders to keep him from running towards them, Lola and Maisie are holding hands serenely, and Louis wonders where his children have gone. He knows he’s supposed to walk to the cadence of the music, but his muscles struggle to sprint to them and embrace them. Louis might walk a little too quickly down the aisle, but it doesn’t seem to matter because so does Harry and they arrive at the same time. Louis kisses all of the kids on the forehead and so does Harry, before they reach for each other and hold hands. Niall is the only other person standing on the platform because “If you two bloody idiots aren’t going to have any groomsmen, I guess I’ll just have to get ordained and marry you meself.” They took him up on that offer.

            Niall’s eyes are misty and red-rimmed and Louis nudges him gently, mumbling, “You big sap.”

            “Look at yerself,” Niall accuses back as he swipes at his eyes.

            “Now, now, you two,” Harry placates, but a big grin stretches his pink lips over his teeth in an image that Louis loves. Louis wants to taste inside of his mouth and press feathery kisses to his neck.

            He wants this to end as quickly as possible, so that he can press his lips into the soft parts of Harry’s skins, so that he can bury his nose into the spiced smell at the juncture of Harry’s neck, and so that he can nibble at the tender skin on the inside of Harry’s thighs.

            Louis walks through the ceremony like a zombie, and he’s not quite sure what he says or does, just that Harry grins at him the whole time and rubs circles into his hands. He knows that his smile is just as outrageous, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to contain it. The kids are pressing into them and their euphoric energy is adding to Louis’s enraptured haze.

            “You may now kiss each other,” Niall declares.

            Harry cradles Louis’s skulls in his large palms as their lips meet. Louis squeezes Harry’s waist tightly as Harry deepens their kiss. Harry pulls away and presses their foreheads together before kissing him again.

            “Get a room,” Niall grouses and Louis can hear the catcalling of their other guests. Harry huffs out a laugh and presses his face into Louis’s neck. Louis grabs Harry’s hand and drags him down the aisle with the kids following.

            They walk to the room where Louis was getting ready and they kiss quickly again. The kids are incredibly excited and Harry and Louis are attacked with hugs. Finn’s sniveling when he pulls away. Louis wraps his arm around Finn’s shoulders and whispers, “It’s okay, bud.”

            “I know.”

            “I’m so happy.”

            “Me too,” Finn responds.

            Maisie is also crying and she’s pressed against Harry’s side.

            “This is supposed to be a happy event,” Louis comments.

            “I am excited,” Maisie promises.  

            “This family needs to stop crying,” Louis chastises, even though he’s tearing up a little himself. Harry laughs and the group of them hugs again. The reception is lavish, almost preposterously so, but it’s so Harry that Louis loves it. He dances almost all night with Lola and Maisie, laughing contentedly at the outrageous moves they come up with.

            “May I cut in?” Harry asks, right before the reception is scheduled to be over. Maise nods and runs off to pull Zayn onto the dance floor, but Lola pouts heavily until Niall twirls her into the middle of the dance floor.

            “We just got married and yet you spent the whole night dancing with two beautiful ladies.”

            “Who happen to be our daughters,” Louis teases.

            “Semantics.”

            “I’m so chuffed we did this.”

            “Me too.”

            “It was nice to involve them.”

            “I think it was more for them than it was for us. We never needed a piece of paper to know what we were to each other, that we were meant to be together,” Harry admits.

            “But I still like having it.”

            Harry laughs and kisses the side of Louis’s head.

            “So do we get a second wedding night?” Louis asks hopefully.

            “I thought that was the real reason you agreed to this.”

            Louis snorts into Harry’s neck. Harry’s hand is warm and it grasps Louis’s slightly chilled one.  Louis had taken off his jacket to dance with the girls and the dance floor didn’t have nearly as many heaters as the tables did. Therefore, he unabashedly tries to siphon Harry’s body heat; he tries to make it so that Harry’s hand is folded over his and he wiggles his other hand under Harry’s suit jacket.

            “Leech,” Harry mumbles under his breath, but Louis glances up at him and the grin he’s sporting shows off the wrinkles by his eyes; Louis kisses his jaw in return. It’s crazy to think the difference between fifteen years.

            Fifteen years ago, wrinkles weren’t even on their radar; in fact, Louis would’ve probably been terrified if you had mentioned wrinkles to him. Now, he sees the wrinkles and he knows it means they’ve led a full life. They’ve had their share of worries, maybe even more than their share, but they’ve also had more laughs than Louis can count. Now that Maisie is well, Louis is innumerably happy. Louis kisses Harry’s cheek and wraps his hand tightly in Harry’s shirt.

            “I love you,” Louis confesses, “so much.”

            “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

            “It’s not, I know that, but sometimes I think you could break me.”

            “But I love you,” Harry reminds.

            “That doesn’t mean you won’t break me.”

            “I won’t I promise, but you have just as much control over me, you know?”

            “Agreed mutual destruction.”

            “Agreed mutual creation,” Harry grins.

            “You’re ridiculous.”

            “I know, but that’s why you love me.”

            “I guess.”

            “You want to kiss me...You want to hug me... You want to love me... You want to hug me... You want to smooch me,” Harry singsongs.

            “Completely ridiculous,” Louis chuckles, and he reaches up to pull Harry down to his lips. Their lips press together and Louis can feel Harry’s grin against his own lips. Louis continues the kisses, like it’s some kind of uncurbed compulsion. He knows that it’s probably a little too intimate for the middle of the dance floor, but it’s their wedding, well second wedding, so Louis can’t be fussed to stop. Harry pulls away when they’re both short of breath and rests his forehead against Louis’s.

            The last dance is called and their kids swarm them. Louis doesn’t know how this is going to work, but they stand in a circle and sway to “Fireproof,” anyway.

            Eventually, they say goodnight to the kids who are going to a suite with Lottie, Fizzy, Daisy, Phoebe, and Dori. They cuddle them extra long, Harry tucks them all into his side with whispers of love, and Louis peppers all their heads with kisses.

            Harry and Louis walk hand in hand to the “honeymoon suite.” The watch box is still there on the table and Harry spots it right away. His head whips to Louis and Louis just nods mutely because his throat is closing tightly and his eyes are tearing up. Harry opens the box and licks his lips quickly; his look of utter shock and adoration sweeps over his features.

            “For me?”

            “Happy anniversary, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! I appreciate any and all feedback! It would be lovely if you reblogged the post on tumblr. (http://areyoutherelarry.tumblr.com/post/130104648754/fic-in-the-lonely-hour-author-areyoutherelarry)
> 
> Also, anything you would like to see as a sequel or ficlet would be great to know. 
> 
> Additionally, please look out for a new story about Baker-Harry and Songwriter-Louis who get a young kid pushed into their lives.


	11. AN and Preview of Ficlet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note and preview of ficlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was very motivated by your comments and have already started a little ficlet which I have posted the preview to below. I also created a series that you could subscribe to for this verse so that you can catch all the ficlets to come as this will be the last post I make on this story! I will also take this down when I post this ficlet in full.

            “They’re crying again,” Finn scoffs as he plops down on Maisie’s dorm room bed, “That’s what’s taking them so long to bring up the mattress.” He crosses his ankles and leans back on the dorm mattress. Her suitemates nearly had coronaries when he came in carrying a box of her clothes and introduced himself. Maisie knows, aesthetically, that he’s attractive but she hates how much that makes other girls drool all over him because it just fluffs his ego. Little sisters don’t like a big brother ego fluff no matter how deserved it might be.

            “You don’t know what people have done on that mattress.”

            “Such a princess,” Finn laughs and he wiggles his butt on the mattress.

            “You’re disgusting.”

            “You just think you’re fancy because you go to Berkeley.”

            “Berkeley is a state school, you go to Stanford.”

            “I got a scholarship.”

            Maisie sighs because she doesn’t have a retort for that and goes about organizing the books on her shelf. There’s so much more that she has to do to be ready for the first day of school, and to top that off she can’t quite process being this far away from her parents and siblings. Finn has been doing it for three years now and seems fine, but he also regularly went to soccer camp and to visit their grandmothers. Whenever Maisie had accompanied him to their grandmothers’ houses, she’d always gotten incredibly homesick and spent most of her waking hours near tears. Not to mention the fact that her parents haven’t been all that good at letting her go after they almost lost her all those years ago.

            “It’ll be okay, Maisie. I promise.”

            Maisie turns to look at him and his face is as sincere as it was teasing a few minutes ago. She goes back to the bookshelf because she doesn’t trust herself to be flippant right now.

            “I’m only an hour away. I can be here whenever you need me,” Finn promises.

            “Except when you have footie practice, classes, research, and your girlfriend over,” Maisie lists cynically.

            “Maisie,” Finn chastises, pulling her into a hug. She folds her willowy limbs into his arms, sniveling slightly.

            “I told you this wasn’t a good idea Harold,” her dad admonishes when he sees the embrace after setting down her mattress, “What’s wrong, baby girl?”

            “Nothing,” she promises, but her dad still throws her papa dagger-glares, which her papa eye-rolls off.

            “I could probably still convince the dean at UCLA to give you that spot.”

            “Dad,” she huffs, “Berkeley has the program I want.”

            “You’re our daughter, you’ll make any program,” her dad declares.

            “Please, dad, you’re being ridiculous.”

            “Lou, leave her be,” her papa demands gently as he drops a hand on the back of her dad’s neck. Her dad relaxes a smidge, but she can see that he’s still kind of miserable, and it, honestly, makes her feel a little bit better that someone seems as glum as she feels.

            “Did you bring our entire bathroom?” Lola complains as she carries in a box marked toiletries with Toby on her heels. Maisie laughs and that leads her to uncontrollable giggles, which makes Lola narrow her eyes.

            “Not funny,” Lola protests, pushing her purple hair out of her eyes after she sets down the box.

            “What’s Maisie laughing for then?” Toby asks.

            “Shut up, Toby,” Lola grumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are all so lovely and inspiring! Thank you very, very much!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I appreciate any and all feedback! I'm hoping to have this updated once a week since I have an outline all done and ready to go! YAY!
> 
> Visit me at tumblr! url: areyoutherelarry


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